


Happenstance and Magic

by Mikauzoran



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Marichat, Marichat May, Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste - Freeform, Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Chat Noir - Freeform, Moving On, Slightly Aged-Up (17), Slow Burn, adopted kittens, reverse crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikauzoran/pseuds/Mikauzoran
Summary: Marinette hadn’t expected to get caught up in an armed bank robbery. She hadn’t planned on striking up a quirky friendship with Chat Noir. She hadn’t imagined movie marathons or thoughtful gestures or late-night-into-early-morning heart-to-hearts. She hadn’t been prepared to slowly fall in love with the sweet and silly boy behind “Chat Noir”. Sometimes the universe gives you gifts you would never think to ask for yourself.





	1. No Powers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my attempt at Marichat May. Thank you so much for joining me. I'm Mikau, and it's a pleasure to meet you (or see you again, as the case may be).
> 
> This work might not be as polished or regular as my other works, but I'm going to try to do my best to turn these chapters around quickly. I hope to update on Tuesdays and Fridays, but I only have four chapters written at the moment, so I may have to drop down to one update per week later, depending.
> 
> More information concerning the status of the work and updates will be available on my Tumblr as we get farther along: https://mikauzoran.tumblr.com/ .
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Chapter One: No Powers, but Not Powerless

She’d originally gone to the Marais for fabric to finish her black swan-inspired gown; getting caught up in an armed bank robbery had not been on Marinette’s list of things to do that day. Neither had befriending Chat Noir, but destiny had bigger ideas for Marinette than she herself could fathom.

The sun was setting, casting a lovely amber glow on the façade of the Saint Paul Saint Louis Church. The haunting melody of the congregation singing at vespers drifted out the open doors as Marinette passed, pulling her thin, robin’s egg blue sweater more snuggly around herself.

The late March evenings could still be chilly in Paris, and Marinette had stayed out bargain-hunting longer than she had intended.

“You were right. I should have brought a jacket,” she muttered ruefully under her breath.

Tikki merely giggled, refraining from her usual “I told you so” singsong. “It’ll be warmer on the metro,” she offered sympathetically.

Marinette suddenly halted, squinting as a barricade cutting off traffic and the flashing lights of police vehicles came into view. “If I can get to the metro. It looks like they’ve set up a roadblock.”

Tikki tentatively peeked out of Marinette’s purse, surveying the situation. “Isn’t that Sabrina’s father? Maybe he can tell us what’s going on.”

“Officer Raincomprix!” Marinette shouted, trotting over to the police line. “Did something happen? Am I still able to get to the metro?”

The tubby officer shook his head slowly, expression grave. “Armed robbery at the bank. The suspect is still on the loose in the area. Head on home, Miss Dupain-Cheng. It’s not safe around here.”

Marinette bit her lip, holding back a snarky comment about how she would love to head home…if only the metro entrance hadn’t been cordoned off.

“Thank you, Officer Raincomprix,” she replied instead, turning back the way she’d come. “Be careful.”

“I guess we’re walking,” Tikki sighed, curling up in Marinette’s handkerchief.

“Hardly,” Marinette scoffed, a wicked grin taking shape on her lips. “It’s a twenty-minute walk from here. I’ll have hypothermia by the time I make it.”

Tikki raised a skeptical eyebrow at her charge. “Then what do you propose? You can’t take the metro, and I’ll eat your hair-ties if you’re able to sprout wings.”

“Well… ‘There may be more than one way to skin a cat…if you’ll pardon the expression’, right?” Marinette winked mischievously. “Ladybug’s yo-yo is as good as wings, don’t you think?”

“Marinette, it may be twilight, but it’s still bright enough to see. What if someone catches you transforming?” Tikki fretted.

Marinette rolled her eyes, turning off the Rue de Rivoli down a side street and looking for the closest alley in which to transform.

Unfortunately, the alley she found was already occupied.

“You wouldn’t actually shoot me,” Chat Noir snorted glibly, all confidence and levity despite the twitchy man holding him at gunpoint. “If you shoot me, who’s going to save Paris?”

“Ladybug,” the bank robber retorted automatically. “It’s not like you do much besides take hits and get turned against her. The way I see it, this is her chance to upgrade sidekicks.”

Chat’s cheeky grin faded marginally, but he didn’t allow the bravado in his voice to weaken in the slightest. “Wow. That is incredibly insulting. I’d like to think I’m not _that_ expendable.”

“Well, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” He cocked the pistol, leveling it at Chat’s head. “You’ve seen my face, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll just let me go. I _need_ this money, and if they catch me, my whole life is over. I’m sorry you got in the way, but only one of us is leaving this alley.”

Marinette let out a barely audible gasp. A split-second later her hand flew to her mouth to cover it, fear seizing her as she began to pray that the attacker hadn’t heard. She pressed herself against the cold brick of the building and took deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down before cautiously peeking back into the alley.

The robber hadn’t heard over the pumping beat of his own heart, but _Chat_ had. His cat ears swiveled towards her, and his face went as white as a freshly laundered tablecloth. He stared over his assailant’s shoulder at her in absolute, undisguised horror.

Marinette put a finger to her lips.

Chat’s eyes narrowed as he intently mouthed a single word at her: “Run”.

“So. Is that non-negotiable?” Chat directed to the bank robber, stalling for time, hoping Marinette would have enough to escape and find help. “Can’t you just maim me so that I can’t follow you? I’d much rather you shoot me in the foot or the thigh, honestly. I have such a pretty face; it would be a real shame to ruin it with bullet holes.”

“Cut your yammering,” his attacker snapped, pointedly shaking the gun in the aforementioned pretty face.

Chat’s eyes flickered back to Marinette’s. There was a silent plea in those peridot orbs: “Please run. Why aren’t you running? Run!”

Marinette took a deep breath and mouthed the word “Duck”. She held up a finger and whispered “One.” She put up a second finger, whispering, “Two.”

Chat nodded in time to her words.

Marinette silently begged whatever higher power that would listen, _“Please don’t let me get him killed. Please don’t let me get him killed.”_

Marinette gave the third count and screamed the most banshee-like, bloody-murder, chased-by-hellhounds shriek she could muster.

The robber jerked around in alarm just as Chat ducked out of the line of fire, taking the window of opportunity Marinette had opened with her distraction to tackle his assailant to the ground, knocking the wind out of the gunman and momentarily stunning him.

There was a brief scuffle during which Marinette fervently pleaded with the entire pantheon for the gun _not_ to go off.

Chat succeeded in knocking the pistol away from the robber, and it went skittering to a stop in a puddle by the nearby café’s dumpster.

“Marinette! Run and get help!” he called to her, and she was momentarily surprised by the fact that he hadn’t had to stop to think of her name.

Tikki gave her a gentle but firm kick through the material of her purse when Marinette did not react timely.

With a jolt, Marinette launched back into action, fumbling in her bag for her phone.

Tikki pressed it into her trembling hand, and Marinette mumbled a shaken, “T-Thank you” before carefully dialing the police and giving their location.

Chat was just putting a knee to the robber’s back and pinning the crook’s hands behind him when Marinette dropped her phone back into her purse, anxiously trotting over to Chat but coming to a stop two or three meters away.

“Are…you okay? D-Did he hurt you?” Marinette spluttered, the adrenaline rushing through her system, making her jittery and tense.

“I’m fine,” Chat reported tersely before thinking to add, “Thank you, Marinette,” in a softer tone.

“I called the police,” she informed, running her fingers up and down her purse strap. “The police are on their way. Only a minute or two.”

“Great,” Chat grunted, digging his knee in as the robber began to struggle anew. “Thank you, but you should probably get out of here. Go home.”

“…Please,” he added when Marinette made no sign of moving.

“I’m not leaving you in an alley by yourself with a dangerous criminal,” she snorted, and all of her nerves melted away.

She was his partner even without the suit. That man on the pavement had tried to hurt her partner, and she would be damned if she was going to walk away and leave Chat Noir on his own.

“ _Please_ get the hell out of here,” Chat groaned.

Marinette rolled her eyes, taking a powerful, confident stance between the men on the ground and the weapon in the puddle. If Chat lost his hold and the prisoner escaped, Marinette was the last line of defence.

“Nope,” she replied with a decisive pop.

“You are…oddly enough, exceptionally stubborn,” Chat sighed.

“You have no idea,” she snickered.

 

The police came quickly and swiftly took over. An officer recorded both Marinette and Chat Noir’s statements before officially releasing them.

Marinette wandered out of the mouth of the alleyway, arms tightly wrapped around herself, trying to hold in warmth. She found it nearly impossible now that the sun had well and truly set.

It would be a long walk home.

“So,” Chat called to her, trotting to catch up. “That was pretty intense.”

“That’s one word for it,” Marinette sighed with a shiver, kind of wishing she had accepted the shock blanket from the paramedic who had looked over her.

Chat fell into step beside her.

Marinette couldn’t fathom why. Perhaps he intended to walk her home? Maybe his own route just happened to coincide with hers?

He noticed her shiver once more and, almost without thought, wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her in towards him to share his body heat as they walked side-by-side.

Marinette figuratively froze, her body going tense.

“Sorry,” he replied quickly but kept his arm in place. “I’m sorry that I don’t have a jacket to offer you. You look cold.”

“I am cold,” she returned a little brusquely, pulling away from him. “Sorry. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“Right.” Chat pursed his lips, taking in the little boutiques lining the street, most of them closed or getting ready to close for the night. “How about I buy you a jacket, then?”

Marinette stopped to quirk an eyebrow at her partner. “With what money?”

Chat’s brow furrowed, and his lips pressed together into a tight line. “With the money that I earned by working?”

He added, “if you can call it that” under his breath, not intending for her to hear.

“I do have a life outside of being half of Paris’s favourite crime-fighting duo, you know,” he preened, some of his signature Chat Noir vanity coming to the forefront.

It was a bit of a relief to have that little piece of normalcy after the harrowing ordeal they’d just survived.

“I know,” Marinette assured. “I know that. What I meant was…you don’t have a wallet on you, do you?” She did a quick scan of his suit for any lumps or bumps that would prove her wrong. “There’s nowhere to put it.”

Chat patted one of the pockets just below his ribs. “I carry cash, so let’s get you a jacket, Princess.”

Marinette openly gawked at him. “‘Princess’?”

Adrien gave himself a mental kick.

It had only been by virtue of small miracles that he had never called her “Princess” to her face before. He’d secretly thought of her as “Princess” since the Dessinateur incident four years prior, and she’d been “Princess” in the contacts on his phone for just as long.

“Princess,” he confirmed, deciding the best course of action would be to dig his heels in and act innocent, putting her in the wrong if she chose to argue. “Isn’t that what I called you that first time we teamed up?”

“I’m surprised you remember,” she hummed softly, slowly resuming her trek back home. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember me…much less my name…that nickname…”

“You’re _very_ memorable,” he stressed, sounding a little taken aback himself. “I don’t know why you’d think you weren’t.”

“You save a lot of people.” She shrugged, rubbing at her arms vigorously to try to keep warm.

“And yet you still stand out.” Chat matched her shrug with one of his own. “Anyway. Jacket. Pick one—any one you want from any shop you want—don’t even worry about the price tag.”

Marinette shook her head as she declined. “Chat Noir, I can’t let you spend money on me. I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”

Chat made a soft sound of annoyance, biting the inside of his cheek as he eyed her intently. “Marinette, you’re cold. Trust me. I have plenty of money; let me buy you a jacket.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but Chat cut her off.

“—Look. Remember that time when that guy held me at gunpoint in an alley and you saved my life? Let me buy you a jacket.”

Marinette closed her mouth. She silently considered for a moment before opening it again. “You know, I just distracted the guy and hoped he didn’t accidentally shoot you. I really didn’t do anything.”

“Considering that causing a distraction is the majority of what I do in akuma fights, I kind of resent your implication that just being the distraction doesn’t count for anything,” he snorted, hands going to his hips. “Now, pick a jacket, Princess, or I’ll pick one for you myself, and you really don’t want me doing that.”

Marinette stuffed down the feeling of guilt welling inside her long enough to ask him why not.

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I have inherited absolutely no fashion sense,” he confessed with a dramatic sigh. “Seriously. We have a person on staff whose job it is to put together acceptable outfits for me. I even have several sets of each ensemble so as to cut down on the number of wardrobe decisions I have to make.”

“You’re joking,” Marinette decided, unable to take him seriously.

“Do you want to chance it?” Chat taunted, the hint of a smile peeking out from behind the corner of his mouth.

Marinette picked up the gauntlet. “Sure.”

Five minutes later, she found herself the indifferent owner of a fitted, white leather bomber jacket with black sleeves and trim.

“Meh,” she announced. “You could have done worse. For now, your fashion sense is given probationary approval.”

With a shrug, Chat fell back into step beside her, and they continued their journey towards Tom and Sabine’s. “I think it’s cute on you. You look cool.”

Marinette had to chuckle at that, switching the hand holding the bag full of fabric she had earlier purchased. “I can live with that.”

Chat was silent for a long beat before replying gently yet gravely, “You’re lucky to _be_ alive, you know. That guy today was seriously desperate, and desperate people do stupid things. He could have easily killed us both.”

Marinette deliberately refused to let those words sink in. “But he didn’t. We’re both fine.”

“You should have run,” Chat sighed, carding a hand through his hair in frustration at her stubborn streak. “Next time, please run.”

“Why?” Marinette grumbled. “Okay, maybe you have a point, but just because I don’t have powers doesn’t mean that I’m powerless. Maybe when there’s a gun involved I should get out of there, but the rest of the time…I’m not going to sit around and let myself be a damsel in distress.”

“Yeah,” he breathed softly. “No. Today _I_ was the damsel in distress, and I was lucky my Princess Charming came to rescue me when she did—I should have swooned and done the ‘my hero’ bit….” The levity quickly faded from his voice. “Still…you’re so tiny, Marinette. I get that you’re strong,” he quickly added before she could take offence. “I know you’re strong, but…I worry about you.”

Marinette struggled to wrap her head around the fact that he worried about _her_ , not just Ladybug. He knew her well enough to worry?

“Still,” he chuckled, bringing a lighter note back into the conversation. “I am kind of jealous of you.”

“Me?” she scoffed. If he only knew what he was saying.

“Yeah. You’ve never needed powers to be a hero, Marinette.” His tone was so full of admiration that it nearly knocked her off her feet.

She slowly came to a stop to look him in the eye. “Chat Noir?”

“Princess?”

“About what that jerk said earlier…” She nibbled nervously on her lip. “It was all a pack of dirty lies. You’re not Ladybug’s sidekick; you’re her partner. You’re a hero in your own right, and Ladybug _needs_ you to make it all come together. She’d be lost without you, so don’t you ever listen when people tell you you’re not as good as she is. It’s not true, and Ladybug knows it. …I know it, and there are a lot of others that do too.”

A parade of emotions quickly marched across Chat’s face. There was surprise, disbelief, and unbridled joy before his expression settled into a grin of gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough for saying that.”

With a dismissive hand wave, Marinette turned and began to walk once more. “You don’t need to thank me. It’s the truth. It’s a given, and anyone who doesn’t know that is an ignorant fool.”

He made a mental note to find some way to bottle her. He needed to carry around Marinette essence with him everywhere so he could periodically open the bottle and be reminded that he was respected, admired, and worth caring about just as he was.

“Still. Thank you…. May I take you to dinner?”

Marinette nearly tripped. “H-Huh?”

“Dinner,” he repeated sheepishly. “Are you hungry? I’d like to take you to dinner. Anywhere you like; just say the word.”

Marinette shook her head in an almost violent fashion. “Ch-Chat Noir, I can’t. I already let you buy me the jacket, and that’s more than enough. You really don’t have to thank me like this.”

“If you won’t let me buy you dinner as a thank you, would you let me buy you dinner as a favor? I’m kind of more freaked out than I’m letting on after almost getting shot in the face in an alley,” he snickered, the laughter belaying his inner maelstrom of emotions. “It’s not like I can talk about it with anyone, since all that happened to Chat Noir, not to _me_ , so once I go home, I have to somehow manage to act normal. I don’t want to go home yet,” he patiently explained, smiling sheepishly and hoping she would take pity. “Will you please let me take you to dinner?—Unless you’ve got something pressing to do, I mean. I wouldn’t want to ruin any plans you may have had, but…”

Marinette stared at him, trying to process the fact that her silly, carefree, seemingly indominable partner was very much a normal human teenager under the mask and the leather. Objectively, she’d always known this, but it had never fully sunk in until right then.

He was just a kid like she was, and he’d almost been killed—not in an akuma fight with the promise of everything being magically put back together again afterwards, but well and truly shot to death in an alley. He was doing an _excellent_ job of compartmentalizing. Chat Noir was an even better actor than Marinette had ever given him credit for.

“I don’t have anything to do,” she assured, showing him her brightest smile. “I’d be honored to go to dinner with you, Chat Noir. I’m honestly still a little shaken too, so we can hang out as long as you want. I’d be glad of the company too.”

She had the time to spare; she could make time for her partner. Besides, maybe it would be nice to spend time with him without the pressure of an akuma destroying the city or the weight of the responsibilities of Ladybug forcing her to keep him at a certain distance for their own safety.

Chat instantly perked up in excitement at the prospect of not being the only one to crave the other’s reassuring presence. “Perfect! How do you feel about Greek food, Princess?”


	2. Greek AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat talks a lot...probably too much, and Marinette rethinks her assumptions about her partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for joining me for Chapter Two! Thank you as well for the support for this work. I really appreciate your comments, kudos, and bookmarks.
> 
> Greek AU was a tough prompt at first...and then I decided that I didn't need to stick so closely to the prompt. ^.^; So I give you Greek Food. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Two: Greek Food

A twenty-minute walk found Chat Noir and Marinette on the Rue de la Huchette at La Taverne Grecque, two blocks from Tom and Sabine’s.

The light blue exterior of the restaurant was playful and charming with two fake Doric columns in relief on either side of the storefront. The inside was even more whimsical, the left wall as well as the rafters covered with beautiful painted plates from around the world. The right wall topped even that with a varied collection of masks: African tribal masks, Greek gods such as Heracles with his lion pelt cloak, Japanese masks including a tengu and a creepy female noh mask, the Hindu god Ganesh, the bust of an Egyptian pharaoh, an Aztec statue, and even a mask that looked like the emperor Justinian.

The arrival of a superhero got Chat and Marinette some odd looks and open stares at first, but once they were seated, things settled down as the other patrons went back to their dinners.

“Get anything you want,” Chat urged, looking over the appetizer selection. “Seriously. Get one of everything.”

“I don’t think the two of us can eat one of everything,” Marinette tittered, flipping through the menu. “…I need to branch out more. I mean, I can’t believe this place is a four-minute walk from my house, and I’ve never been here. I’m probably missing out always going to the same places.”

“Don’t feel too bad. I have a lot of places like that that I’ve just never made it to,” he commiserated. “I’ve lived in Paris my whole life, and there are so many places I’ve never been. I actually only started coming here a couple months ago myself.”

“What’s good?” she prompted, reading the descriptions of the entrees.

“Everything,” he snickered.

“Well, maybe I’ll have to take you up on your offer and order one of everything after all,” Marinette teased with a shark-like smirk.

Chat rolled his eyes, putting his hands up in surrender. “Perhaps now would be a good time to come clean and confess that I only have two hundred euros on me, so maybe don’t get one of everything.”

Marinette’s jaw went slack, her mouth dropping open. “Are you serious? You’re not serious.”

Chat shrugged, turning to the next page of the menu. “Sorry. I don’t usually carry too much cash around, and it’s not like Chat Noir can use _my_ credit card, so you can only spend up to and including two hundred euros on dinner. I’ll make a note to bring more cash for the next date…er…next time someone nearly kills us both.”

Marinette shuddered. “Let’s hope that never happens.”

After a few minutes, the waiter approached to take their order looking utterly starstruck, and, shortly after that, the manager came over to their table to greet them warmly.

“It’s an honor to have you here, Chat Noir…and your lovely friend as well.” He nodded in an amicable manner to Marinette who returned the nod in kind. “You two were actually just on the news.”

Marinette’s eyes flew wide as she gaped at the middle-aged gentleman. “We were? So soon?”

The manager nodded gravely. “Nadja Chamack was reporting on the bank robbery and how you two stopped the guy. Nasty business.”

“Yeah,” Chat muttered.

“We’re actually still trying to wind down,” Marinette chuckled sheepishly. “I was pretty shaken, so Chat Noir is keeping me company until I calm down, and then he’s going to make sure I get home all right.”

“Is he now?” the manager laughed from deep in his belly. “That’s awfully nice of him.”

There was something in the way that he smiled conspiratorially at Chat that indicated that he thought any young man in his right mind would be happy to make sure that Marinette got home all right.

“It’s the least I can do after she saved my life,” Chat insisted, smiling across the table at Marinette in a mix of gratitude and awe.

The manager’s mouth curved into a small circle of surprise. “You two really do need to relax, don’t you?”

“Afraid so.” Marinette grimaced.

“Well, the best way to do that is with a glass of wine.” Suddenly a thought occurred to him. “Are you two eighteen?”

“I’m not,” Marinette confessed.

“I am,” Chat lied.

“I’ll go ahead and send over a glass of wine on the house for you two,” the manager informed with a wink. “Have a better night.”

Marinette protested, but the manager insisted, so they thanked him for his generosity.

Once he had left, Marinette turned to whisper to Chat. “Are you really eighteen?”

Chat shrugged. “I will be in, like, a month.”

Marinette frowned in deep disapproval, making Chat smirk.

“I see that the princess is displeased with me. What? Just because I’m a superhero, I’m not allowed to be a little dishonest sometimes? Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m actually a real human being, not a comic book character. If you want perfection, stick with Ladybug because Chat Noir is secretly flawed under his various masks.”

Marinette crossed her arms and looked away as a slow flush crept down her neck. “I’m sure Ladybug’s no saint either,” she muttered. “But it was wrong to lie…. And I’m a little surprised that you drink.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on the sainthood of Ladybug, but I _don’t_ drink,” Chat countered.

Marinette looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

He shook his head. “Princess, I occasionally have wine with meals. That’s a far cry from going out and getting trashed for the heck of it. I never drink to excess,” he explained.

She shifted in her seat as she considered his argument, eventually delivering her verdict in the form of an affected shrug of indifference. “You still shouldn’t have lied.”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he stressed, and the contrite look in his eyes told her he really did regret that he had disappointed her.

She shrugged again, relenting. “I guess maybe a month doesn’t make too much of a difference. You’re really turning eighteen in a month?”

He nodded. “End of April.”

She nodded in return, filing the information away.

The glasses of wine came with the appetizers: a plate of pita accompanied by hummus, tzatziki, and babaghanoush dips; rice-and-vegetable-stuffed grape leaves; flaky spanakopita filled with spinach and feta; a small plate of kalamata olives; a fried cheese dish called saganaki; and little kebabs of lamb, beef, and chicken.

The presentation of the saganaki was particularly impressive. The waiter brought it out and lit it on fire in front of them, extinguishing the blaze with lemon juice before placing it on the table.

Marinette went for a lamb kebab first, picking the skewer up gingerly between her fingers and sliding the meat off with her teeth. Chat Noir ate an olive, carefully removing the pip, and then reached for his glass of wine.

“Have you ever gotten drunk?” Marinette couldn’t help her curiosity.

Chat laughed wryly, holding his glass up to the light, swirling the wine within thoughtfully. “My father would kill me. Maybe disown me. Though, that would probably be super inconvenient for the company, so maybe he’d just put me under house arrest for the next few years. I don’t know. It would be bad, whatever he decided to do.”

Marinette stared uncomprehendingly as Chat sniffed the wine before taking a measured sip and letting the liquid coat his tongue. He held it in his mouth for a minute, thoroughly contemplating the flavor before swallowing.

It was then that he noticed her befuddled expression. He frowned in concern. “Problem, Princess?”

“You’re joking, right? Your father wouldn’t ground you for something like that, would he? I mean, okay. Maybe for a week or two, but not for months or years,” she laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

Chat didn’t laugh. He shrugged, setting down the wine glass and tearing off a piece of pita to dip in the hummus. “I’ve been grounded for a week for things that were not my fault and that I had no control over. It’s not hard to imagine him putting me on lockdown for a serious infraction like dishonoring the family name and tarnishing the company image by being drunk in public. Imperfection isn’t tolerated in my family.”

“Oh.” Marinette grabbed a stuffed grape leaf and shoved it in her mouth.

Chat didn’t sound bitter about it. He didn’t seem to think that this was unfair. He was simply reporting on his world as it was, and that unsettled Marinette. Just what kind of totalitarian family did her partner come from? What was his life like when he wasn’t fighting by her side? She had never allowed herself to look too closely before, but now that the universe had thrown this opportunity into her lap, she couldn’t help but become morbidly curious.

“That’s why it’s a good thing I have my Miraculous. It’s hard having to be perfect all the time as myself, so it’s a huge relief that I can be Chat Noir and not have to pretend so much,” he remarked with a soft, half-wistful smile. “Well, there’s still the expectations of being a good superhero, but I get to pole-vault over houses and run on rooftops and tell stupid jokes and just…be a silly teenager in a leather cat suit, so…I’m really grateful that I have Chat as an escape from my normal life.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully, reaching for a chicken kabob.

She’d had no idea. She’d never expected…this. Not that she’d let herself think about Chat Noir’s identity too much, but…she’d thought Chat Noir probably came from a working-class family with a couple younger siblings and loving, supportive parents. He seemed like the kind of guy with a close family that had summer vacation adventures and holiday traditions. She’d always imagined Chat as a messy-haired class clown with a big heart and a goofy personality.

The contrast between her mental image and what he was describing was stark to say the least.

“You’re not going to try the wine?” Chat inquired, dragging her away from her thoughts. “It’s actually pretty good. It’s a little cheaper than what I’m used to, but the flavor is solid.”

Marinette eyed her glass intently, considering.

“It’s not going to bite you,” he snickered.

“My parents probably wouldn’t approve,” Marinette hummed. “I don’t turn eighteen until June, and they don’t have a very high opinion of alcohol consumption in the first place.”

“Ah.” Chat nodded comprehendingly. “I’ll drink it, then.” He reached for her glass to move it to his side of the table, but she put her hand out, and their fingers brushed.

“I’ll—I’ll try it,” she decided. “Just a sip. I mean…It’s not like I’m going to get drunk, right?”

“Right,” he affirmed, chuckling, “I won’t let you because then your parents would never allow you to hang out with me again.”

Marinette picked up her glass and gave the wine a suspicious sniff before sipping cautiously. She immediately choked and recoiled at the leathery, bitter, tannic taste. “Bleh.” Her nose scrunched up as she reached for her water.

Meanwhile, Chat Noir attempted not to fall out of his seat as he laughed at her. “Oh my God, your face,” he chortled. “I _love_ your face.”

“Do you now?” she coughed, patting her chest lightly as she tried to recover.

He nodded, laughter diminishing into a warm smile. “It’s always so honest. It’s…refreshing for someone like me who always has to wear one mask or another. I’m not allowed to pull a face like that when I don’t like something. I have to bite the inside of my cheek, swallow, and smile politely so as not to offend anyone. I really love how you’re always able to be so honest, Marinette. You have the best facial expressions.”

“Oh.” Marinette tucked a loose bang back behind her ear, a pastel pink slowly spreading across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. “Thank you…. I don’t think I like wine.”

“Maybe not that one.” He shrugged, reaching to shepherd her glass to his side of the table. “Chianti isn’t for everyone, and I usually prefer Merlot or Pinot Noir myself. Chianti can be a little dry, but I think the balance on this one is good.”

“I thought wine was supposed to be fruity and sweet.” Marinette took another drink of water, shaking her head as Chat sipped at his own glass of wine.

“Princess, there is a lot of wine in the world, and each one is different and unique. Maybe try a Malbec next time.” He used his fork and knife to transfer a wedge of the saganaki to his plate and cut it into manageable bites, the gooey cheese inside the breading oozing out like lava.

“You’re secretly rich, aren’t you?” she sighed, no longer able to deny it.

He froze with a bite of saganaki halfway to his mouth. “Why do you say that?”

“You clearly know your way around a wine glass, unlike most people our age below a certain income level. You carry around a ludicrous sum of cash, and you’ve sort of implied that your dad has his own company. You’re secretly rich, aren’t you?” Marinette accused once more.

“Would you like me less if I were rich?” Chat grimaced, hoping he knew the answer but suddenly unsure.

“No. It doesn’t really make any difference,” she responded with a shrug, reaching to grab one of the spanakopita off of the plate by his elbow.

“You sound kind of annoyed,” he observed apprehensively.

“It’s just weird. You’re subverting all of my expectations, so my mental image of you is a little broken right now. I’m in the middle of trying to restructure how I think about you,” she explained with a helpless lift of her shoulders.

He opened his mouth to ask if she thought of him often but stopped when he remembered the incident three years prior when he’d gotten her father akumatized. Did Marinette still have any kind of feelings for Chat Noir? It didn’t seem like it. Then again, it hadn’t really seemed like it until she threw her arms around him and told him she was in love with him, but…it would probably be best not to poke at what could possibly be a sore spot.

“Are you actually going to drink two glasses of wine?” Marinette hummed thoughtfully, picking up an olive and popping it into her mouth. She winced at the bitter, acidic taste and delicately removed the offending morsel.

“Three would be a bad idea, but two should be fine, since I’m eating a large meal,” he responded diplomatically. “I don’t have a particularly high alcohol tolerance since I don’t drink often or much, but I’m not a lightweight either. Besides, today sucked even before I almost got shot to death in an alley. If there were ever a day in my life to say, ‘screw it’, today would be in close contention for top spot.”

Just then, the waiter returned with their main dishes: a large Greek salad for Chat Noir and a Greek-style lasagna dish called moussaka for Marinette.

“…What happened that made today so bad before the bank robber incident?” Marinette hesitantly inquired once their waiter had left. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Chat shrugged and stabbed a tomato with his fork. “A lot of inconsequential, stupid things. Chief among them is a big event coming up for my father’s company. It happens every year, and every year it always seems to overshadow my birthday because he’s so busy making sure everything is perfect…. It’s really not a big deal. I don’t know why I’m letting it bother me. It didn’t used to bother me, but these past few years…”

Seeing how his friends got to celebrate their birthdays with their families, how it was something people spent time and energy on, how it was special, how parents set the whole day aside, how friends gathered together to have fun and give gifts…

And all Adrien got was an “I’m sorry, but your father is busy” and a new pen exactly like the ones from the previous years.

Being made aware of the discrepancy, finding out that there were other ways to celebrate a birthday had stung.

Chat shook it off. “It’s not a big deal,” he reiterated, even though the look on Marinette’s face told him she was not buying it for a second.

“ _Really_ ,” he stressed. “It’s not. He’s busy, and I get that, and that’s not his fault. I’m pretty busy myself. It was just bugging me today, so I was in a bad mood, and then I had to do a bunch of stuff to help get ready for the event, and that made me a little bitter because I’m actively helping my father not have time for me, and everything was taking longer than it should have because everyone was suddenly incompetent today probably because my father was there supervising, so everyone was tense and everyone was getting yelled at even before they actually started doing anything wrong, and…”

He abruptly stopped and frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start griping at you.”

Marinette shook her head emphatically. “No. I _asked_. Keep talking.”

He pursed his lips and considered her momentarily, trying to determine whether she was just being polite. Marinette always seemed more than happy to listen to Adrien whenever he needed to get something off of his chest, but…

“Chat Noir, I’m serious,” she urged. “Keep talking.”

He nodded. “Okay…but stop me if I get too morose.”

“Deal,” she promised, reaching for some of the pita.

“So…the whole time I’m wishing I was anywhere but there, but I have to smile and pretend to be…‘me’…but not _me_. Because no one, absolutely _no one_ , wants _me_. So I have to be ‘me’ to make everyone else happy, but I’m really pissed off at ‘me’ right now because since ‘me’ exists, _me_ doesn’t get to be _me_ , and _me_ doesn’t get to spend time with my father, and even if ‘me’ didn’t exist and _me_ did get to spend time with my father, my father wouldn’t want _me_ because he wants _me_ to be ‘me’ all the time because he likes ‘me’ better because _me_ isn’t good enough. I feel like ‘me’ is constantly sabotaging _me_ , and I’m really sick of ‘me’. If that makes any sense at all outside of my own head,” Chat sighed, carding a hand through his hair as he rolled his eyes at himself.

“But anyway, all this is going through my head while I’m standing there trying to look alluring and mercurial for the camera, and I just…can’t, and they’re not getting the shots they need for the promotional posters, and my father is watching and getting irritated with me, and he’s all like, ‘What’s wrong with you? You can do better than this. You’re not taking this seriously. You’re such a disappointment. I can’t believe how disappointing my son is. I’ll never love you.’—That’s not what he actually said,” Chat paused to correct. “That’s just kind of what I heard. I think he actually just asked if I was okay and then, when I said I was fine, he asked why I wasn’t taking it seriously, but…I mean, what was I supposed to say? ‘No, Father. I’m not okay. This is my life, my actual life, and I’m not happy with the direction it’s going’?”

Chat went silent and frowned once more. “Marinette, didn’t you say you were going to stop me if I got too morose?”

“It…” was kind of like watching a train wreck. “…kind of snowballed a little fast. There wasn’t a good place to interrupt you, and you kind of sounded like you needed to vent. I don’t mind listening, so don’t worry about it,” Marinette assured.

How had she never noticed this about her partner before? Of course they never really got the opportunity to talk at length or in depth in the middle of akuma battles, and they didn’t often see each other outside of the fights, but…either Chat was a good actor or Marinette was completely inattentive and oblivious because she had never noticed a thing.

Chat nodded, looking down into his salad and spearing a cucumber. “It’s not a big deal. Everyone has problems. Some people don’t know where their next meal is coming from. Some people don’t know how they’re going to afford medicine they need to live. Some people don’t have water or clothes or cars or jobs or homes…. All I have to do is put on an act the second I step out of my bedroom. It’s not such a big deal in the grand scheme of things. I’d be a spoiled rich brat if I thought my problems truly counted for something.”

“It still hurts, though, doesn’t it?” Marinette prompted softly. “Maybe more so because you don’t feel like you have the right to be upset about it.”

He shrugged, taking another sip of his wine. “Only sometimes. Like I said, I was in a bad place mentally from the get-go today, so… Marinette, most days I’m fine.” He looked up to meet her gaze, and the earnestness in his eyes surprised her. “Seriously. Okay, sometimes I struggle with depression a little, but I’m fine. I’m actually pretty happy most of the time. I have wonderful friends, and even though my father doesn’t always have time for me, I know he loves me. He’s crap at showing it, but I _know_ how important I am to him. I don’t have a bad life, even though aspects of it do occasionally suck, so I don’t want you walking away thinking, ‘Poor Chat Noir. He’s got it so bad’ because it’s not like that. Just…you’ve kind of caught me on one of the bad days…. Okay?”

“…Okay,” she tentatively agreed, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. She herself had had _bad days_ before, and she knew what kind of toxic mental spirals she could spin in her own head. Maybe it really was as Chat said and things weren’t as bad as they sounded.

“Thank you for listening.” He tentatively raised his glass to her.

She shrugged and clinked her water goblet against it. “What are friends for?”

He paused to reflect on her word choice for a moment before grinning and taking a sip.

Setting down his glass, Chat cleared his throat and attempted to move the conversation along. “Long story short, I had a fight with my father about something else after this morning’s photo shoot fiasco, so I snuck out of the house as Chat Noir and went for a run to blow off some steam. Like I told the police, I saw the crook running and then trying to carjack some other guy, so I decided to play vigilante. That almost landed me dead in an alley. Would not recommend. So what was my princess doing in the Marais today?”

Marinette gracefully accepted the topic shift and outlined her search for the perfect shade of glacial blue tulle to complete her gown inspired by Odile, the black swan from Swan Lake.

“I had to pick up a few things for the costumes for the school play too,” she admitted. “We’re doing an adaptation of The Blonde Lady by Maurice Leblanc. It’s about a duel of wits between the master thief and sometimes detective Arsène Lupin and his British rival Sherlock Holmes.”

“How’s that going?” Chat prompted, dipping a piece of pita into the tzatziki sauce.

“Pretty well. Holmes’s outfit is done, and the girl playing him is even smaller than I am, so it didn’t take a lot of time or fabric to do. Lupin is a little more complicated. He’s a master of disguise, so there are a couple different costumes I have to make for him.” Marinette shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

Even though he knew it wasn’t actually his fault since the play necessitated multiple costume changes, Adrien still felt guilty that it was taking so much time and effort on Marinette’s part.

“It’s taking a little longer than it should because my friend who’s playing Lupin is actually the son of a fashion designer, so he’s used to wearing really top-of-the-line clothing. I know the quality of the costumes is going to be a lot lower than what he’s accustomed to, and I know he’s definitely going to notice, but I’d kind of like to take my time and really do my best so that the glaring inferiority of my costumes isn’t quite as apparent.” Marinette grimaced through a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Marinette, your costumes are going to be masterpieces, and Adrien is going to love them,” Chat assured, unable to tell her how much it meant to him as Adrien that she was going to so much trouble on his account.

Marinette blinked. Frowned. Opened her mouth to say something. Closed it once more.

She hadn’t said ‘Adrien’. Chat knew Adrien? Chat knew that Marinette knew Adrien? Chat knew about the school play’s cast?

She shook it off and smiled brightly. “Thank you, Chat Noir. That’s super sweet of you.”

“I’m not just saying that to be nice,” he insisted. “I know what a genius designer you are, Marinette. Even if the play doesn’t have the budget for costumes you’d like, I know you’re resourceful and extremely capable of producing quality work.”

Marinette grinned down into her water goblet, pushing a stray bang out of her eyes. She could feel her cheeks burning in pleasure at his praise.

“Did they give you free reign with designing the costumes, or what was that process like?” Chat asked, spurring Marinette to talk animatedly for ten minutes straight.

Chat listened with rapt interest, watching her in awe as she happily chattered about her passion.

He so rarely got to see her like that as Adrien. True, she had pretty much gotten over her shyness around him a year or two into their friendship, and they regularly had fairly normal conversations now, but she still seemed more reserved around Adrien than when he saw her with other friends.

“…Are you a vegetarian?” Marinette inquired seemingly out of the blue.

Chat paused with a piece of spanakopita halfway to his mouth. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged and indicated the spread in front of them. “The appetizers you picked are all vegetarian except for the kebabs—which you haven’t touched. You even asked for the stuffed grape leaves specifically without the ground beef, and for your main dish you got a salad. I was just wondering.”

“Fair enough,” Chat chuckled. “Well, while I don’t specifically self-identify as vegetarian, I can’t say that I really care for meat on the whole. There are some dishes I like, and I’ll eat meat if that’s what’s put in front of me, but I usually go for meatless options if given the choice. My best friend thinks I’m nuts and that they have me brainwashed or something, but I really love salad. It’s kind of a comfort food for me.”

Marinette laughed softly at the peculiar detail. “Really? Usually people go for brownies or a thick custard…something with fat and calories.”

Chat scratched self-consciously at his cheek. “It’s because of my mother. Whenever one of us was having a bad day, she’d kick the staff out of the kitchen and throw together a big bowl of salad. We’d stand at the counter and eat it together, so…yeah. Salad makes me feel better after a bad day.” He indicated the plate in front of him with a nod of his chin.

“That’s such a nice story,” Marinette giggled. “Whenever I’m having a rough day, Papa makes me crème brûlée and Maman makes orange jasmine green tea. It doesn’t really go together, but whatever, right?”

“So long as it makes you feel better,” Chat agrees. “…You know, my mother is primarily the reason I eat like I do, now that I really think about it.”

“How so? Is she vegetarian?” Marinette picked up another lamb kebab and worked the meat off the skewer.

Chat nodded. “She was always vegetarian when I was growing up, and one of those _crazy_ ones too. You know the ones that guilt trip you for eating Bambi or tell you in gross, exhaustive detail about the deplorable living conditions of livestock while you’re trying to eat? That was my mother for _years_. My father seemed pretty impervious to it, but…you can imagine why I never developed much of a taste for meat.”

“Yeah. Go figure,” Marinette snorted. “That’s…”

“Literally crazy,” Chat laughed heartily at the memory. “But—get this—fish were fine to eat.”

“Why were fish fine?” Marinette stared at him in puzzlement.

Chat cleared his throat and quoted, “‘Fish aren’t animals; they swim.’”, obviously imitating his mother’s voice.

“What?” Marinette giggled. “Seriously?”

“Seriously!” he insisted. “She said that all the time whenever she ate sushi or calamari or oysters. She didn’t even believe that, but she’d say it as if it were a scientific fact. She originally came from Marseille, so I think she always liked seafood. I don’t even know.”

He shook his head and laughed as he remembered. “Anyway, I guess I just got used to eating mostly vegetarian growing up, so I never picked up the habit of eating meat. The kitchen staff actually only started working meat dishes into the rotation a few years ago, so I guess they just got used to her craziness too.”

“What made your mother change her mind?” Marinette had to wonder. “I mean, if she was so insistent about it for so many years, why suddenly stop?”

Chat’s head slowly tipped to the side. “Sorry. Change her mind about what?”

“Being militantly vegetarian,” Marinette clarified. “You said that she _was_ vegetarian in the past tense, so it sounded like she wasn’t anymore. I was wondering why she stopped.”

“…Oh.” Chat bit his lip. “Uh…She…” He frowned down at his salad, trying to find the right words. It was hard when Adrien himself didn’t even know what had happened.

Marinette’s brow creased in confusion.

“…My mother is…A few years ago…she…”

“—Oh my God!” Marinette gasped, a hand flying up to clap over her mouth. “Oh my God,” she repeated in horror. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t—I had no idea. You always act so…I didn’t know that—”

“—She might not be dead,” Chat cut in. “She just disappeared. It was maybe a few weeks before I got my Miraculous, and she…just wasn’t there one day. I don’t remember her being sick. She was just gone. Maybe she’s fine and she ran out on my father or something. I love him, but I understand how difficult it is to love him. He doesn’t make it easy, and maybe she just couldn’t love him anymore. I wouldn’t blame her if she did just leave him…except for the part where she didn’t say goodbye…”

Chat stabbed another tomato. “And the part where she forgot to take me with her, but the point is that she may not be dead, so you don’t have to feel sorry for me. It’s not like I had to watch my mother gradually wither away from cancer or something like some people, so I feel like I haven’t really earned that kind of sympathy. Heck, maybe she’s back in Marseille or hanging out on a beach in California and she’ll think of me one day and miss me enough to come back and we’ll be a family again and look back on this and laugh—hey, remember the time Father drove you so nuts that you ran away for four years? …Or something like that.”

Marinette nodded slowly, trying not to set off any more landmines. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighed in agreement.

“So…” she pursed her lips. “You ate mostly vegetarian at home, but what did you eat at school? Did you go home for lunch or have a packed lunch or…?” She tried to navigate them back to safe waters, and food seemed like a neutral enough topic. He had been fine talking about food before.

“Uh…” He smiled bashfully. “I was kind of homeschooled with private tutors until sort of recently, so…”

Marinette’s head cocked to the side. “Oh? Is that a common thing that rich people do? I have another friend like that.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Chat grinned, playing dumb.

“Hm. Was there any particular reason why you were kept home?” she dug.

Chat sighed, recalling what he considered the biggest injustice of his life. “My brother—”

He cut himself off as alarm bells sounded in Adrien’s head. He tensed, half expecting his father to barge into the restaurant in an Olympian god-like rage to castigate Adrien for his transgression.

Adrien Agreste was—and always _had_ been—an only child. Félix Agreste did not exist—had _never_ existed. By sheer force of will, his older brother had been blotted out of the space time continuum…at least as far as Gabriel and Emile had been concerned.

But Adrien was Chat Noir at that moment, and maybe it was okay for _Chat Noir_ to have a brother, even if Adrien was forbidden to even allude to his.

Chat took a calming breath. “Sorry. My brother…” He took a minute to savor words he’d been robbed of for going on ten years. “…was bullied…pretty severely bullied. He’s eight years older than I am, so by the time it was my turn to go to school, my mother was dead set against it. She didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. To be honest, she and my brother never got along well. She loved him, but it was a dodgy relationship. I, on the other hand, was her favourite pet. She said I was too ‘delicate’ to go through what my brother had, so I was never allowed to attend school with other kids. Only after my mother disappeared was I able to get my father’s assistant to help me convince my father that I should be allowed to go to school, so…

“Sorry,” he chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I feel like you’re asking straightforward questions, but I keep giving you all this information you didn’t ask for.” He sighed, and started on the second glass of wine, taking a larger than normal drink.

“It’s okay,” Marinette assured earnestly. “I really like getting to know you, Chat Noir. I thought I had you pegged, but…you’re really nothing like I thought, and…it’s really interesting. I like hearing you talk about yourself.”

He weighed her words for honesty and found them sincere.

A tentative smile bloomed on his lips.

“Okay. Good.” It was then that a thought hit him, and he winced. “I guess it’s too late to ask that you not tell your friend Alya about any of this?”

Marinette shook her head vigorously. “I would never abuse your trust like that. I’m not telling Alya—or anyone else for that matter—anything, Chat Noir.”

“Oh.” Chat felt a warm sensation in his chest at her words. “That’s…Thank you.”

“Any time,” she chuckled. “So…are you close with your brother? I don’t have any siblings, so I have no clue what that’s like. Alya has both an older sister and younger sisters that she gets along with okay, but they’re not particularly close, and the same goes for Nino and his brother Noel. I’ve heard that some siblings do really get along well, though. What are you and your brother like?”

Chat tried to keep smiling, but a bit of a wince got through. She just kept asking really difficult questions. “Well…we were close when I was little. Now…no. I do talk to my sister-in-law usually once a week, but…”

Chat let himself wince and took another mouthful of wine. “Okay. So. My brother left home right before I turned eight. He was sixteen at the time, and it was really ugly. He and our parents completely severed ties, and now I’m not even allowed to acknowledge that I ever had an older brother. Meanwhile, my brother took his wife’s last name and likes to pretend that the first sixteen years of his life didn’t happen. He’s a homicide detective in Marseille now, and my sister-in-law has her own bakery there—just a corner shop. It’s a lot smaller than your parents’ place, and she just does bread. I have a two-year-old niece too. I’ve never met her in person, but we FaceTime a lot. Sometimes my sister-in-law has to call me at night to sing my niece to sleep because she won’t settle down for anyone else. I send her presents from time to time, and I guess I’m as much a part of her life as I can be with things the way they are, but…it would be really great if my family could just get it together so I could go visit her…play with her…hold her before she gets too big.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette whispered, reaching out to rest her hand on top of his. “That really sucks. Maybe it’s not too late, though. Maybe things can be fixed now that so much time has passed. Have you ever talked about it with your brother?”

Chat laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, Princess. So much is broken that I don’t know where we would even start to fix things. Firstly, my brother won’t speak to me directly but passes messages through his wife. He thinks he abandoned me and let me down when he left, so now he doesn’t think he has the right to be a part of my life. And that’s really ironic because by refusing to be a part of my life now, he’s kind of abandoning me and letting me down. It would be nice just to have him to talk to. There have been times when I really could have used him. I’ve asked my sister-in-law to talk to him, but…my brother is stubborn and set in his ways. It’s hard to get an idea out of his head once it’s in.”

Chat’s ears flattened, and he pulled his hand away from hers to run it through his hair. “Yeah. My family is full of stable, well-adjusted people. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. Why am I telling you this?” he chuckled anxiously, looking up to meet her eyes.

They were calm and reassuring, offering sympathy and comfort without judgment.

“It just…feels…”

Right. Telling her felt right.

“…okay somehow…. _Is_ this okay? I know I’m kind of a lot to take,” he chuckled, offering her the opportunity to duck out.

She shook her head. “It’s okay,” Marinette confirmed. “I don’t mind. Like I said before, I’m really grateful for the opportunity to get to know you, Chat Noir. Besides, it’s kind of like telling your life story to the person sitting next to you on a plane, isn’t it? It doesn’t really matter what I think because you won’t see me again for…what? A couple months?” She shrugged, her smile all confidence and reassurance.

“It’s not that,” Chat sighed, without really thinking. “Marinette, I see you almost every day, so it’s not like—”

He abruptly stopped talking as Marinette clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes as wide as snail shells.

It took a second for his mind to catch up.

“Shoot,” he hissed. “Please promptly forget that I just implied that we go to school together.”

She shook her head slowly and let her hand drop away from her lips. “You’d have to get me drunk, and, even then, I don’t think that’s something I’d just forget. I thought it seemed like you were a little too familiar with me despite only having interacted with me a few times. You _know_ me. You actually _know_ me.”

Chat buried his face in his hands and let out a slow, labored breath. “Sorry. I’m really sorry, Marinette. This feels so unfair to you, you not knowing it’s me, but…I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you anything. I don’t think you’d be able to put it together from what I’ve told you tonight, but…”

He dropped his hands to his lap and gazed at her sorrowfully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird between us…. I…” He bit his bottom lip.

“It’s okay,” Marinette whispered, slowly reaching up to give his head a gentle rub. “You didn’t make it weird. This is fine, Minou,” she coaxed, her fingers running through his hair, gently massaging.

It felt like an electric current pulsing through him at her touch. He leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed for a moment or two. The nickname normally used by Ladybug sent an extra dose of endorphins coursing through his veins.

“You might want to lay off the wine, though,” Marinette snickered. “I think it might be loosening your lips. If you’re not careful, you’ll be telling me your phone number, address, and real name before long. Just think: what if Papillon knew that all he had to do to defeat you was get you drunk?”

Chat opened his eyes just in time to see a playful wink directed at him.

He gave a snort and downed the rest of the wine. “I swear to Drunk, I’m not god, Princess.”

“Unlike most of the girls in Paris, I am not confused on the point of your divinity,” Marinette laughed, sitting back in her chair.

“Shame,” Chat sighed. “My loss.”

“So long as you know it,” she laughed wickedly.

“Okay,” Chat decreed, dipping a piece of pita into the babaghanoush. “We have been talking for almost an hour pretty much just about me. Time to talk about you.”

“Me?” Marinette snorted. “Boring topic choice.”

“No,” he admonished, wagging a finger at her. “ _Fascinating_ subject.”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes dubiously. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he insisted. “Start at the beginning. You have a normal family, right? Talk about that.”

Marinette pressed a hand firmly over her mouth to try to control the fit of giggles. “Normal? My family? Chat Noir, you’ve been misinformed. The Dupain-Chengs are all crazy, each in their own delightful way.”

“Oh?” he crooned in interest. “How so? Spill. I mean, I told you all about my family’s dirty secrets, so…?”

“Well, my grandpa didn’t speak to my dad for twenty years essentially because Papa married an Asian woman,” Marinette snickered, beginning to recount both the funny and embarrassing anecdotes of her family’s history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. As you can see, this is the headcanon chapter. ^.^; What better way to get close to someone than to talk about how screwed up your family is? I hope you enjoyed my various headcanons and the little glimpses of Emile and Félix you got here. Did you enjoy them? What are your thoughts on my portrayal of the Agreste family situation? I'm curious.
> 
> And, yes, I know Rolland said that the rift was because of the bread, but...I'm thinking intercultural marriage might have been an issue for him. Just saying.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'll see you on Friday.
> 
> Notes:  
> I've never eaten at La Taverne Grecque: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187147-d2014745-Reviews-La_Taverne_Grecque-Paris_Ile_de_France.html , but I've walked past it, and it looked super neat, so it's making an appearance here. Please visit the link just to check out the pictures of the decor.
> 
> In case you were curious, the drinking age in France for wine and other lower-alcohol-content beverages used to be sixteen until 2009. Now it’s eighteen for all alcoholic beverages. So, technically, Adrien/Chat is about twenty-something days too young to legally order alcohol.
> 
> By the way, I don't drink, so I have no idea what Chianti or Merlot or Malbec or Pinot Noir taste like! ^.^ I did a lot of research on flavor profiles and read up on wine and food pairings, though, when picking wines for this chapter. If anyone actually drinks wine and would like to clue me in, I'd be grateful. I'm a tea drinker, and I've studied the process of wine tasting, so I have the theory down, and I'm familiar with describing the nose/bouquet/finish and what-have-you of a beverage, but I've only applied the principles to tea, so I have no personal experience with wine. Would it be weird to go to a wine tasting purely for research for writing? I wonder.
> 
> I feel like I need to apologize to crazy vegetarians. I've probably offended you. Sorry. While I recognize the validity of your cause and admire your dedication, a part of me is a little miffed that your vociferousness makes people think that all of us vegetarians are going to bite their heads off if they eat meat in our vicinity.
> 
> I went to three different Greek restaurants in less than forty-eight hours to do research for this chapter. I ate Greek food for lunch, dinner, and dessert for two days and tried all kinds of new food in order to write this, and it was a fantastic experience! I had never had Greek food before, so this was an adventure. I tried spanakopita, saganaki, Greek salad, kalamata olives, baklava, and galaktoboureko. Pita and the three dips mentioned in this chapter I had had before, and my brother tried the lamb kebabs for me. If you've never had Greek food before, I would recommend it!


	3. Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Marinette each deal with the aftermath of their eventful evening together.  
> Nathalie, Sabine, Tikki, and Alya are concerned.  
> Plagg really just wants to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! First off, I want to apologize for switching up the update schedule on short notice. Happenstance will be on Mondays now. I only have Chapter Four written, so Chapter Four will come out next week, but we'll have to see after that if I'll be able to update this weekly after all. I might have bitten off more than I can chew with doing I Would Give You Some Violets on top of Rejects Club and Happenstance. The good news is that Violets is now complete (at least in rough draft form), so now I can get back to Happenstance. ^.^; I just kind of lost a week on Violets, is all.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks. I really appreciate the support!

Chapter Three: A Cat, His Kitten,

and His Kitten’s Kittens

“…and I was so mad at her!” Marinette nearly shrieked with laughter at the memory. “I was like, ‘Maman! You couldn’t have told me this earlier?!’”

“So what did you do?” Chat prompted, steadying Marinette as she almost tripped into him.

“Thankfully, Papa helped me.” Marinette grinned, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “He stayed up all night, even though he had to get up at four for work the next morning. He was so wonderful.”

“My father’s assistant does stuff like that for me.” Chat nodded, smiling at memories of Nathalie bending over backwards whenever he needed her to.

“She sounds like a good mom,” Marinette hummed.

“…She is,” Chat chuckled. It was a nice thought. “She is a good mom, even if we can’t really acknowledge that kind of relationship with each other. She’s been there for me since I was seven.”

“Do you think your father will eventually marry her?” Marinette wondered. Four hours before, the question would have been impertinent. Now it didn’t faze either of them.

“They would have to admit they were dating first,” Chat grumbled in frustration.

“That’s such a shame.” Marinette matched his sigh. Her hand accidentally brushed against Chat’s periodically as they walked. “If they really love each other like you say…not being able to publicly express that love…”

“I think they’re happy, though,” Chat remarked as they came to a stop outside the side entrance to the bakery.

Marinette shook her head. “If I loved someone like that, I wouldn’t be able to hide it. Like you said earlier, my emotions show directly on my face, and they’re not subtle.”

“Because you’re so passionate,” he added, putting out an arm to lean against the doorjamb.

“Right.” She smiled affectionately up at him. “I couldn’t be a secret.”

“No one in their right mind would keep you a secret,” he snorted. “You’re the kind of girl a guy would want to show off.”

“Flirt,” she accused without heat. “I think the wine’s gone to your head.”

He was about to tell her that any effect the wine might have had would have worn off an hour or two ago, but he thought better of it. Let her think he wasn’t entirely in control of his mouth.

“I think _you’ve_ gone to my head,” he teased just to see her blush. Her expressions truly were the best.

“Nope,” she laughed, getting out her keys. “That’s it. I’m going inside.”

She pushed the door open and stepped in but paused with her hand still on the doorknob.

She felt like she should invite him in for coffee. She didn’t drink coffee. She was pretty sure he drank some kind of expensive, imported, Italian roast that cost as much as her house. She wasn’t even really sure how to make coffee, but…she felt like she should invite him in for coffee.

“I’ve never closed a restaurant before,” she replied instead, leaning back against the door.

“Neither have I.” He leaned in closer, and she suddenly realized that he was a whole head taller than she was. He didn’t tower like other people did, though. He was a good height, just tall enough to lean in and press a kiss to her forehead.

“That was really fun,” she whispered. “I had fun talking with you.”

“I’m glad,” he sighed in relief. “I did too, and I was kind of worried that—”

“—Don’t worry,” she cut him off before he could start on one of his downward spirals. “You’re fun and utterly fascinating, so don’t ever worry about whether other people like you. I like you,” she assured with a broad, encouraging grin.

“Good,” he chuckled. “Because I like you too, Princess. I’m glad we got to talk and…you know…be friends.”

She nodded in wholehearted agreement. “…Thank you for dinner. And my jacket. Oh. And carrying that.” She reached out for the bag of sewing materials she had purchased in the Marais that day that he had been carrying for her.

He reluctantly handed it over, feeling the moment slipping away with it. It was ending.

“You’re welcome,” he replied dutifully and then, “So…I guess…this is…” He chose “goodnight” instead of the more final “goodbye”.

“Yeah,” she sighed, taking a reluctant step farther into the foyer.

He wanted to ask, “When can I see you again?”, but he knew the answer: On Monday at school as Adrien…and it wouldn’t be the same. He had told her about his _brother_. He had talked about his mother and his father and almost as much about his life as he possibly could without giving away anything that would expose his identity, and…there was no way Marinette and Adrien could recreate the profound and implicit trust that she and Chat Noir had managed to form by sitting at a Greek restaurant and talking about anything and everything for three and a half hours after almost getting killed by a desperate bank robber.

Lightning didn’t strike the same place twice.

“I’ll see you soon?” he chanced hopefully.

She laughed. “Monday at school apparently. Not that I’ll know it’s you.”

He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. “Haha. Yeah.”

They shifted uncomfortably, each knowing it was time to say goodbye but neither really wanting to let the evening end. Yet they were both at a loss as to how to keep time from passing.

Chat was the one to bite the bullet. He pushed himself up off of the wall and took a step back. “Goodnight, Princess.” He dipped into a sweeping bow, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips before coming up smiling.

She shook her head and grinned at his antics. “Goodnight, Minou. See you soon.”

The door closed, and Chat set off towards home at a leisurely pace, keeping to the rooftops along the quai next to the Seine.

 

With a sigh, Chat released the transformation, and Adrien collapsed onto his bed.

Wordlessly, Plagg phased through the minifridge to procure his own cheese.

Adrien pulled out his phone and winced when it informed him that they were coming up on midnight. Adrien had to be up at six the next morning.

He groaned, noticing the thirteen texts and five missed calls from Nathalie:

Where are you? Your father wants to see you, and I can only come up with so many excuses before he barges into your room and finds you gone.

I have managed to convince him to give you the rest of the day off to stew in your room, so you shouldn’t be found out. You can thank me later.

How much longer do you intend to be out?

Adrien? Please come home.

CALL ME. I am watching the news, and I need you to call me.

Are you all right?

Where are you?

Adrien, please call me.

I really need you to call me, Adrien.

Adrien?

You don’t have to come home, but please confirm that you are safe.

Please call me when convenient.

Please call me, even if inconvenient.

The last text was from twenty minutes prior.

“Shoot,” Adrien hissed, a sharp dagger of guilt stabbing him in the stomach.

Marinette had called her parents before they’d gone into the restaurant. Why hadn’t he thought to call Nathalie? He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been too freaked out still from staring down the barrel of a gun and agonizing over dragging Marinette into the mess and getting her killed too.

Sitting up, Adrien pulled up his contacts and selected the first one from his favourites. He really hoped she wasn’t with his father, but he figured chances were low since she had been texting not half an hour before.

“Thank God,” Nathalie hissed into the receiver. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m really sorry. I was at a restaurant with Marinette for a few hours, and I didn’t hear my phone over—”

“—Adrien, are you okay?” Nathalie stressed, talking over him in her distress.

“I’m…yeah. I’m okay,” he replied, feeling very small.

“Are you actually okay, or are you just saying you’re okay?” she pressed, showing how well she knew him.

“I was kind of shaken up right afterwards, but hanging out with Marinette really helped,” he summarized. “I wasn’t physically injured. I think I’ll probably be a little skittish for a while, though…kind of like after the kidnappings. I really don’t like guns. Did you know in Japan people aren’t allowed to have guns? I feel like maybe we should do that.”

Nathalie let Adrien babble to calm down for a minute before she spoke again. “Where are you right now?”

“My room. I just got back from dropping Marinette off at her house. I’m really sorry I didn’t think to call you,” Adrien muttered, shame flooding his face.

“It’s okay,” Nathalie assured, even though it was obvious to the both of them that nothing was objectively okay about the situation. “Just please learn your lesson from this experience and remember to call me next time.”

“I will,” he swore. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “Adrien, is there anything you need?”

He shook his head and then verbally replied when he realized she couldn’t see him. “No. I’m fine. I was just going to head to bed so that I’m not a total zombie for the shoot tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Nathalie sighed. “That’s probably a good idea…. Did you have a nice time with Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Three hours was a long time to sit at a restaurant with someone.

“You know what? I did,” Adrien chuckled, a sheepish blush rising to his cheeks. “She’s really a neat person.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Nathalie nodded, making a mental note to keep an even closer eye on Marinette Dupain-Cheng in the future. “I won’t keep you then. Goodnight, Adrien. I’m relieved that you’re safe.”

“Thanks, Nathalie. Goodnight,” he answered, deciding that he really needed to do something nice for her to make up for the hours of anxiety and uncertainty he’d put her through.

“You owe that woman chocolate,” Plagg snorted as he alighted on the comforter next to Adrien. “The good kind that she pretends she doesn’t like because she feels funny about the cost.”

“Yeah. I owe Nathalie chocolate and then some,” Adrien hummed, getting up to change for bed. “…And I owe you too.”

“Oh?” Plagg sang in a glissando between two notes. “I’m not one to turn down a reward I may not have strictly earned, but may I ask what fabulous thing you’re under the impression that I have done?”

“Letting me stay transformed for hours on end.” Adrien shrugged on his sleep shirt.

Plagg grunted softly. “Well…yeah. You kind of needed it.”

“More than you know.” Adrien smiled sadly. “I was kind of having a mental breakdown this morning before the fight with Father over the birthday party…and then confronting the idea that today could have been it and my life has been pretty worthless since I haven’t managed to contribute anything to society was… At least, that’s what I was thinking until I hung out with Marinette. Then I realized I was just being a downer and letting it all get to me. Marinette thinks I’m pretty great, and even if Adrien Agreste hasn’t managed to do much for society, Chat Noir’s doing a pretty good job, right?”

Plagg shook his head. “Kid, what I think doesn’t matter. You need to stop relying on others to inform you of your worth. Remember when you read that book about self-affirmation? Do _you_ think you’re doing a pretty good job as Chat Noir?” Plagg turned the question back on Adrien.

Adrien averted his gaze as he pulled down the covers. He crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling in silence for a minute. “…Yes. I’m good at this.”

“I think so too,” Plagg murmured, settling onto his pillow.

“Thanks, Plagg,” Adrien chuckled. “And thanks for today.”

“You can pay me back by never running after an armed suspect ever again,” Plagg snorted.

“No promises,” Adrien muttered shamefacedly. “Sorry. What if I hadn’t chased him and he’d ended up hurting someone else?”

Plagg let out a groan of exasperation. “This is why the master chose you. I wish he’d choose a selfish brat with a sense of self-preservation every once in a while.”

“You _love_ me,” Adrien snickered.

Plagg rolled his eyes. “I will admit nothing. You are a means to an end called cheese.”

“You love me,” Adrien repeated, laughing harder as Plagg squirmed.

“You feed me. Any attachment I feel towards you is engendered purely by your capacity as cheese provider,” Plagg protested insistently.

Adrien turned onto his side, giving Plagg The Look.

Plagg tried not to see big, soulful green eyes begging for attention. “Gah! Stop. That’s manipulative.”

The Look intensified.

Plagg threw up his hands in surrender. “Fine! Fine. Yes. I love you. You’re my kitten. Of course I love you. Now cut it out before you make me sick.”

“I love you too, Plagg.” Adrien grinned deviously in triumph as he rolled to lie on his back once more. “Speaking of love…” Adrien segued.

Plagg groaned theatrically. “No. Go to sleep. No matters of the heart tonight. I am exhausted, Kid.”

“There’s this experiment in psychology where you have a subject fill out a survey and, afterwards, have them rate the attractiveness of the person who gave them the survey. It’s interesting to note that the same person who gives the survey is rated as significantly more attractive when the survey is taken on a rickety bridge than when the survey happens on a regular old street corner,” Adrien informed conversationally. “The physiological responses of the body to the danger of the situation—increased heartrate, shortness of breath, release of a certain cocktail of chemicals—are misinterpreted by the brain as falling in love, so the survey giver gets a higher attractiveness rating on the bridge than they do on the street corner.”

“That is fascinating,” Plagg yawned. “Thank you for sharing that. I’m going to sleep now.”

“And even though I’m aware of the phenomenon,” Adrien kept going, “I can’t stop thinking that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is exponentially more attractive after our near-death experience together today.”

Plagg cursed softly into the pillow.

“I mean, she’s always been super cute, and I could understand why other people liked her, but all of the sudden it’s like…wow. This girl is freaking amazing,” Adrien giggled.

“I’m sure the wine didn’t do anything to help at all,” Plagg grumbled.

“Plagg, be serious,” Adrien whined.

“I am serious—seriously exasperated. You must hold the land speed record for falling in love. Are we going to spend the next four years mooning over Marinette now?”

“No, but at least it would be a nice change of pace,” Adrien scoffed. “I’m kind of getting tired of Ladybug yanking my chain.”

“Is it yanking your chain when she’s only ever told you no?” Plagg challenged. “Over and over and over?”

Adrien looked away. “But sometimes she flirts with me.”

Plagg shook his head. “Playful banter between partners.”

“Or she’ll do something just when I’m about to give up hope that makes me think…if I just hold on…”

“Like what? I don’t recall her ever encouraging you.”

Adrien pursed his lips. “Like when we lost our memories and she kissed me.”

“Kid, that wasn’t her, and that wasn’t you, and she did not do that to keep you on the hook, regardless of how you took it,” Plagg rebutted as gently as he could.

“It was versions of us,” Adrien argued. “It proved she was capable of falling for a version of me.”

“A version that you can never be. And that was two and a half years ago, Kid. You’ve got to stop getting so much mileage out of things like that.” Plagg exhaled slowly, trying to curb his frustration.

“…Whatever,” Adrien mumbled, voice shaking with building tears.

Plagg bit his tongue, knowing better than to push.

“…Loving Ladybug used to feel good…back when I was seriously able to believe that she’d eventually fall for me too,” Adrien whispered into the darkness. “It’s been about a year since I stopped believing. Now it just hurts…and I don’t really know what to do about it. I don’t want to love her anymore. It’s just making me resentful and sad.”

“It sounds like moving on is the right choice, then,” Plagg encouraged.

“Yeah. I’ve tried that before, though, and I haven’t had much luck,” Adrien groaned, combing both hands through his hair.

“You weren’t really interested in any of those girls,” Plagg pointed out. “…Are you interested in Marinette, or do you think the effects of the wine and your brain misinterpreting your body’s signals will subside by morning?”

“After tonight…everything we talked about…I think I _could_ be interested in Marinette if I let myself. She’s pretty spectacular…supportive…nonjudgmental…easy to talk to…funny—”

“—Yeah, yeah. She’s great,” Plagg grumbled. “No need to elaborate with the sappy details…. But I will say one thing in her favor: you really went all in with her in the emotional baggage department tonight, and she seemed to handle that pretty well.”

“She did,” Adrien hummed. “I don’t know, Plagg. I don’t really want to mess with things, and I don’t think I’m in much of a state to be making decisions tonight. I guess maybe I’ll just enjoy having a crush on her for a while. I don’t think anything is going to come of it, but…it would be nice if I could feel the way I used to when I first fell in love with Ladybug again. If I could have the giddiness and euphoria and fluttery feeling in my stomach without the accompanying pain and regret I feel with Ladybug nowadays… I kind of miss being stupid in love and hopeful for the future. A harmless crush on Marinette might be fun.”

Plagg mentally debated the quote-unquote “harmless” nature of a crush on Marinette briefly before deciding to throw caution to the wind. “Sure, Kid. Why the hell not? Now go to sleep.”

“Mm.”

Silence reigned for all of thirty seconds, and Plagg was just about to drift off to sleep when Adrien spoke once more.

“Plagg?”

“Kitten.” Plagg wanted to weep.

“Tonight was kind of like a date, wasn’t it?” There was a familiar giddy tone in Adrien’s voice.

“Cripes. The mooning,” Plagg lamented. “It’s started!”

 

“…and he shouldn’t have told you all of that personal information,” Tikki ranted, pacing the length of the room back and forth as Marinette untied her hair and peeled off her clothes.

“Mmhm,” Marinette mumbled sleepily, carefully hanging the jacket Chat Noir had bought her on the back of her desk chair.

“I would have come out of your purse and given him a tongue lashing for his carelessness if doing so wouldn’t have exposed you,” Tikki squeaked with rage. “I can’t believe Plagg. This is all his fault. He’s always so lax with his charges. Chat Noir wouldn’t act like this if Plagg were more responsible.”

“Isn’t it fine?” Marinette sighed, stepping into her pajama pants and almost falling over in the process. “I mean, he didn’t tell me anything that would give away who he is.”

Tikki bit her tongue. If Marinette hadn’t connected the dots between Chat Noir and a certain rich, blonde classmate of hers whose father owned a company and whose mother also happened to disappear several years previous, Tikki wasn’t going to help.

“He told you you go to school together,” Tikki harrumphed, focusing on the main infraction.

Marinette shrugged, putting on her sleep shirt backwards before pulling her arms back through the holes to turn the shirt around. “You’re being too harsh on him. He almost _died_ today, Tikki. I almost _lost_ him…before I even got the chance to get to know the person I’d be losing.”

Tikki’s antennae drooped as she came to rest on the ladder rung third from the top.

“Tikki, this secret identities thing is stupid. I’ve thought so for a long time, but now I’m even more sure of it than ever. My partner is suffering, and I can’t be there for him because I don’t know who he is,” Marinette snapped. “I didn’t know anything was amiss for _years_ because we were never allowed to tell each other anything personal about ourselves. This is _stupid_ ,” she reiterated.

“Marinette,” Tikki cooed, floating over to stroke her charge’s cheek. “You can’t tell him who you really are.”

“Why the hell not?” Marinette whispered without heat, gritting her teeth because she already knew the reason.

“Marinette, you _know_ why.” Sorrow was evident in Tikki’s voice as well as her eyes. “How many times has he been controlled by the enemy and used against you?”

Marinette wilted.

“If he knew your identity, that would put more than just you in danger. Your family, your friends…all of Paris. If Papillon gets to Ladybug, he wins. You are the only one who’s able to purify the akuma, so for the sake of all of Paris, you need to protect yourself at any cost.”

“Even if the price is my partner?” Marinette choked, her stomach turning at the thought.

Tikki patted Marinette’s cheek, trying to offer some scrap of comfort. “We are Ladybug. Like it or not, these tough choices fall squarely on our shoulders, and we owe it to those we protect to choose the greater good, even if that comes at a personal loss. That’s our duty.”

Marinette slumped down onto her chaise longue and stared at her feet. “I don’t think I really understood that when I was thirteen. I don’t think I truly understand that _now_ at _seventeen_. Tikki, I’m not a comic book hero either. Chat might think that I’m perfect, but he’s wrong. I don’t know that I can make sacrifices like that, and I don’t understand how anyone could ask that of me.”

Tikki shook her head slowly. “It’s a tall order to fill, and many Ladybug Miraculous holders fail…. I fail them. I’m not always strong enough…. This is bigger than us, though. If you fight with that in mind—”

“—But Chat—” Marinette started to protest.

“—Marinette, do you think I’m heartless?” Tikki smiled ironically through her misery. “I may be very old, and I may be a mystical being, but I am not without emotions. I do care for Plagg’s kitten. He’s a sweet, darling boy, and he deserves better than what he’s gotten, but it is not my job to save him. You and I serve a higher purpose, and so you cannot—you must not—reveal your identity to Chat Noir. There’s too much at stake.”

Marinette took a slow, deep inhale, letting Tikki’s words echo in the silence. She remained unmoving for over a full minute before finally coming to a decision. “Okay.”

Tikki openly gaped at her chosen. “‘Okay’? What? That worked? What do you mean ‘okay’?”

Marinette looked up and grinned, face set in a look of determination that rarely boded well. “Okay. I won’t tell him I’m Ladybug, but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t tell me who he is. I mean, if I get mind-controlled or whatever, we’re screwed anyway. If I can’t be there for Chat Noir as Ladybug, I can be there as Marinette.”

Tikki collapsed onto the throw pillow and groaned. “No. Marinette, no. This is not… That is not what I had intended you to take away from this discussion. There are so many good reasons why you can’t know who Chat Noir is and why you as Marinette shouldn’t get involved. You’re—”

“—No,” Marinette decreed, putting up a hand to cut Tikki off. “No more. Not tonight. My mind is made up, and we’re not discussing this any further. He could clearly use me or a friend like me in his life. I’m not so stuck up as to say that he needs me, but I definitely need him, so Marinette and Chat Noir are going to be friends, and you’re not going to make a big deal out of this.”

“Fine,” Tikki snorted, crossing her arms and tossing her head. “But know that you’re making a mistake.”

“Good,” Marinette returned the snort, climbing up into her loft and getting into bed.

They lay in tense silence for a solid five minutes before Marinette finally relented with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Tikki. I know you’re just trying to do what you think is the right thing. I know on some level that you’re right, but I’m just not able to do what you’re asking of me.”

Tikki sighed, crawling across the pillow to nuzzle Marinette’s cheek. “It’s okay. I’m sorry that I have to ask so much of you. I know it’s hard. I know you’re still so young…. Just don’t tell him that you’re Ladybug. We’ll deal with the rest of the fallout as it rains down upon us.”

“…It’s just…I think I finally understand what happened with Oblivio,” Marinette whispered. “It’s been bothering me for _years_ , but…if the boy I kissed without my memories was the same boy I closed a Greek restaurant with tonight…I think I can understand why I fell for him. He’s not like I thought at all, Tikki. I’ve been wrong about him all this time, and now that I’ve seen a glimpse of the real him, I’d like to know more.”

“You’re falling for Chat Noir?” Tikki squeaked, eyes bulging.

Marinette waved her kwami away with an eyeroll. “That’s not what I said. I said that I could see how I _could_ fall for him…. You know. In some alternate universe called Hell where Adrien didn’t exist.”

“Hm,” Tikki hummed, unimpressed. “If you say so…. You two were pretty flirty at times tonight.”

Marinette rolled to her side and pulled the covers up farther. “I flirt with _Alya_. I flirt with everyone. I am a flirt, and so is Chat Noir.”

“…You don’t flirt with Adrien,” Tikki snickered.

Marinette winced. “That’s how you know I’m serious about him.”

“Mmhm.” It did not sound as if Tikki believed Marinette.

“Oh, hush,” Marinette sighed, pulling the pillow over her head. “I need to get some sleep so I can deal with Alya tomorrow. I can’t ignore her calls and texts indefinitely.”

“Goodnight, Marinette,” Tikki giggled, crawling under the pillow to give her chosen a kiss on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Tikki,” Marinette hummed contentedly, a peaceful smile settling upon her lips.

 

Morning came too soon and not fast enough.

Marinette wearily tossed off the covers and crawled out of bed, giving up on getting any more sleep at seven-forty. She showered and got dressed, trudging down the stairs to scrounge for breakfast.

Her mother met her in the kitchen with a bone-liquefying hug. “Are you okay, Sweetie? I know you said you were okay about a dozen times on the phone last night, but…”

“I’m okay, Maman,” Marinette reassured, giving Sabine a fond squeeze in return. “Just tired. Nightmares.”

What if the gun had gone off? What if she’d lost her partner? Marinette already knew that she would be protective of him for a while after this. The image of Chat Noir held at gunpoint was now forever burned into her skull.

“Oh, Honey,” Sabine cooed, petting Marinette’s still-damp hair.

“I’m fine, though. I was never really in danger myself. It’s just…that guy was going to kill Chat Noir.” Just the thought made Marinette shudder.

Sabine nodded, tightening her grip on Marinette ever so slightly. “It’s terrifying to see someone important to you in danger,” she whispered in the tone of someone who knew that truth well.

Marinette’s eyebrows pinched together slightly as she wondered why her mother thought that Chat Noir was important to Marinette when the two had only had a dozen or so interactions over the past four years. Perhaps her mother was thinking of the Papa Garou incident?

“It _was_ terrifying,” Marinette mumbled, letting her confusion pass. She pulled back and gave her mother a brave smile. “I’m okay, though. I actually had a lot of fun with Chat afterwards. We stayed at the restaurant until close at eleven, and then we did a couple laps around the park, just talking. He’s…Chat is…”

She chuckled brightly as she searched for a way to describe her partner.

Surprisingly witty for all the usual cat puns. Sensitive. A doting uncle. Fond of children. Family-oriented. Slightly naïve. Intelligent. Sophisticated. Kind.

Failing to find just the right word, Marinette shook her head and brushed her stray bang out of her face. “There’s this whole side to him I never got to see before. He’s…I don’t know. He’s great. I’m really glad we got the opportunity to get to know one another better, even if we had to face that bank robber for it.”

Sabine hummed in interest at this development, a knowing grin spreading over her lips. “Well, I’m happy for you, even if I could have done without the excitement. Let’s get you some breakfast before Alya gets here. I told her not to come before ten, but you know how impatient she gets about you…and when she smells a scoop.”

“You talked to her?” Marinette frowned as she took her place on one of the kitchen stools, a sense of unease overtaking her.

Sabine went over to the fridge to pull out eggs, cheese, and a container of pre-chopped vegetables. “Alya heard about the incident on the news, and when you wouldn’t answer your phone, she called us. I told her you were busy on a date with Chat Noir.”

Marinette almost fumbled the cast iron teapot as she poured herself a cup of Tie Guan Yin oolong tea. “Maman! You didn’t!” she gasped, horror overtaking her.

She hadn’t looked too closely at the texts from Alya, and she hadn’t listened to any of the voicemails; she had merely registered that her best friend had spent the entire evening blowing up Marinette’s phone.

Sabine cocked an eyebrow at Marinette over her shoulder. “Honey, you’re spilling. Watch the tea. Was the date supposed to be a secret?”

“It wasn’t a date!” Marinette shrieked as she rose to grab a dishtowel to sop up the mess she’d made.

“He took you to dinner,” Sabine hummed, unconvinced.

“He’s rich, and we both needed to sit down and decompress a little. It wasn’t a date,” Marinette insisted, slumping over the counter.

“My mistake,” Sabine yielded, adding the vegetables for the omelet to the skillet. “You’ll just have to explain it to her.”

“She won’t believe me,” Marinette muttered, reaching up to trace patterns on the pane of one of the windows running the wall behind the sink.

Her finger followed the trail of a raindrop as it meandered until it converged with its brethren.

 

“First of all: Are you traumatized? Are you hurt? It sounded like you were fine, but you’re not hurt, are you? Is this a touchy subject? Do you not want to talk about it? Because it’s fine, if you’re not ready,” Alya spouted in a single breath as she shrugged out of her wet things and tackled Marinette in one fluid movement.

“Alya, I am _fine_ ,” Marinette sighed into her best friend’s bushy red hair. It smelled faintly of cinnamon and pears.

“Good. Then let’s go upstairs so we can talk about your hot date last night,” Alya snickered, thumping Marinette on the back.

Marinette rolled her eyes in futile exasperation. “It wasn’t a date.”

Alya returned the eyeroll with interest. “You always say that. Spill the tea, Sister, and I’ll tell you whether it was a date or not.”

As they tromped up the stairs to Marinette’s room, Marinette recounted the evening, leaving out the personal details of their conversations and substituting vague summaries like, “We talked about his family a lot. They’re extremely important to him, even though he doesn’t get to spend as much time with them as he’d like”, satisfying Alya’s curiosity to some extent without betraying Chat’s trust.

“And how long were you guys at that restaurant?” Alya inquired from where she lay on her stomach, stretched out on Marinette’s chaise.

Marinette shrugged, taking a pin out of Kim’s Watson costume for the school play and tucking it between her lips. “Three, three and a half hours. Something like that. I think we got there around seven-thirty, and we didn’t leave until close at eleven…. Then we kind of lingered and walked around the park a few times. I don’t think I got in bed until midnight…give or take fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, Girl,” Alya sighed. “You lucky, lucky mess. You went on a date with Chat Noir.”

“It wasn’t a date.” Marinette curbed the urge to roll her eyes again because she knew it wouldn’t do any good. She took the pin out of her mouth. “I was kind of freaking out after the whole armed robber episode, so Chat Noir did the upstanding, gentlemanly thing and stayed with me until he was sure I was okay. He was only doing his duty as a hero. Stand up. I need you to try on the skirt portion of your Clotilde dress.”

Alya openly scoffed at Marinette’s excuses. “Doing his duty? Please. Like it was such a hardship having to take a smoking hot babe out to dinner? Marinette, any guy in his right mind would jump at the opportunity to spend time with you. There was very little upstanding or gentlemanly about what Chat Noir did. I know you have this complex about thinking you’re not attractive because Adrien’s never got his head out of the clouds long enough to notice, but, Girl, since I’ve known you, you’ve always had one guy or another falling on his face for you. You are a hot commodity, and I’m betting that fact was not lost upon your sexy-kitty-boy-toy.”

“Oh my God, Alya,” Marinette hissed in frustration, shoving the almost-finished skirt into her friend’s arms. “Please. Drop it, and step into the skirt.”

“Marinette, you guys talked about _everything_.” Alya did not drop it. “You can’t fool me. I know you’re not telling the whole story. You don’t have to tell me what he said, but…it was some pretty intense stuff, am I right?”

Marinette shrugged, refusing to answer. “Drop your pants.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Nino’s usually less direct and more romantic…. You sound like _me_. I kinda like it.”

Marinette pretended to make a gagging noise before smacking Alya on the arm. “Try the skirt on so I can see if I need to make any alterations.”

“You two shared all kinds of secrets and made this deep, meaningful connection right out of a romance novel, didn’t you?” Alya snickered, taking off her pants and sliding on the skirt.

Marinette huffed softly. “…We did. So what? It doesn’t have to be romantic. You and I have had moments like that too. I’ve talked to Nino for hours about stuff like that before. Chat Noir and I are friends now. Why can’t that just be platonic? Turn around please.”

Alya hummed thoughtfully, listening to the raindrops tapping on the skylight.

“I’m going to have to let this out just a smidge. Don’t gain any weight in the next month,” Marinette muttered.

“You’re still hung up on Adrien?”

Marinette remained silent while she made some notes concerning Alya’s costume on her memo pad.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Alya whispered gently.

Marinette did not respond.

“Okay,” Alya eased up. “You and Chat Noir are just friends, and that is one hundred percent fine because I support your decisions, even the ones I don’t agree with.”

“Thank you,” Marinette responded tersely.

“Sooo…when are you going to see him again?”

 

Alya left around noon after keeping Marinette company for several hours, talking about an internship she was excited for, plans for new functions on the Ladyblog, the date she would be taking Nino on that evening. Alya filled the quiet of Marinette’s room while the girl herself worked on costumes for the school play.

Marinette took a break for lunch after Alya left and then decided to extend her break and go for a walk.

She’d come to love walking in the rain. The low, distant rumble of thunder reminded her of Adrien’s laughter. The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against her umbrella— _his_ umbrella—called to mind Adrien’s smile. Even though the day was a little chilly, her memories imbued her with an internal warmth that she carried with her as she rambled, content and at peace.

Rainy day walks always proved reinvigorating.

Marinette set out towards the park with the intention of strolling along the Seine for a good half an hour, but she didn’t get that far.

Sitting beside the bright yellow mailbox near the park’s entrance was a flimsy cardboard box, soppy and falling to pieces in the rain. Inside the box were six half-drown kittens.

Leaving Adrien’s umbrella to shelter the remaining kittens, Marinette gingerly scooped two up and ran back to the house, depositing the kittens (and Tikki to supervise) before going back for their brothers and sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter. I am really pleased with it! I hope you enjoyed it as well. There were so many different character interactions (Chat and Marinette, Adrien and Nathalie, Plagg and Adrien, Marinette and Tikki, Marinette and Sabine, Marinette and Alya...I really managed to squeeze a lot in). Hopefully the chapter wasn't too crowded.
> 
> What did you guys think? Did you have a favourite part? A favourite character? A favourite line? A favourite set of character interactions? Was there anything that didn't work for you?
> 
> How was Tikki? Have I managed to get her point of view across? Does she seem relatable? I tell you, I just don't connect with her like I do the other characters. I'm still struggling to find her voice and personality. I think I have pieces of it, but it just doesn't come as naturally as Plagg or Adrien or Marinette...or anyone else, really.
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you so much for reading, and I will see you again next Monday.
> 
> Shameless Plug:  
> Come visit me on Tumblr: https://mikauzoran.tumblr.com/ ^.^


	4. Villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagg exacts his revenge for Adrien almost getting himself killed.  
> Nathalie tries to be a good mother, even though she didn't sign up for this.  
> Gabriel makes an effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Happy Monday. It's so good to see you again. Thank you for bearing with me on the change in update schedule. I got the rough drafts of Chapters Five, Six, and Seven done since Friday, and I'm working on Eight right now. Things seem to be going well, so I'm optimistic about this story.
> 
> I sat down and arranged the prompts in the tentative order that I wanted to do them on Friday, and I have since had to bump things around twice. (I anticipated something like that happening. -.-; That's why I did my outline in pencil.) But, anyway. Now I have an idea of where I'm going with everything. The mid point of the story is vague and fuzzy, but I know what I want the last ten chapters to look like, so I have a clear direction in mind.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Four: The Villain’s Guide to Parenting

Adrien woke several times during the night, memories of Marinette’s scream providing fodder for dozens of inchoate scenarios where she faced certain death and Adrien could do nothing to protect her. Sometimes Marinette’s scream emanated from Ladybug’s mouth, and that was no better.

Eventually, he managed to drift into a fitful doze about thirty minutes before he needed to get up for the photoshoot, and when he next opened his eyes, he was surprised to find it still dark.

He reached out and pawed at his phone, blinking blearily at the readout once he’d succeeded in procuring it.

Nine-thirteen.

He hissed a curse as he threw off the covers, sending Plagg tumbling and cursing as well.

“Did you turn off my alarm?!” Adrien took a second to snap at his kwami on his mad dash to the shower.

“That was _you_!” Plagg growled, nestling back into the pillow. “After you pressed snooze, like, a gajillion times!”

Adrien stuck his head back out the bathroom door as he pulled off his shirt to demand, “Why didn’t you stop me or make me wake up or something?!”

“Not my job, Kitten,” Plagg snorted indignantly, the very idea absurd to him. “If you’re old enough to wield apocalypse-inducing destructive powers, you’re old enough to get yourself out of bed in the morning. Stop kvetching and get dressed already.”

“I do not kvetch,” Adrien grumbled. “ _You_ are the one who kvetches.”

“And I get what I want in life,” Plagg chortled. “What has your polite dissention ever gotten you, Kid?”

Adrien slammed the bathroom door in lieu of a response.

He took the quickest shower on record, threw on the pre-selected outfit, and started to race out the door.

“Shoes,” Plagg snickered.

Adrien begrudgingly went back for his shoes before attempting his escape once more.

“Phone,” Plagg called as Adrien was just about to yank on the door handle.

Adrien glared as he violently seized his mobile off the nightstand.

“Kwami,” Plagg reminded when Adrien was just reaching for the doorknob.

“Plagg, get the hell over here before you make me even more late and my father kills me. Literally kills me,” Adrien seethed.

With a self-congratulating smirk, Plagg leisurely floated after his chosen.

Adrien half-tripped down the staircase into the foyer just as Nathalie was coming out of the office.

She raised a concerned eyebrow at her charge’s disheveled state. “Adrien. Good Morning.”

“Good Morning, Nathalie. I am so sorry I’m late,” he began his apology and entreaty for forgiveness as he trotted over to her. “I don’t know how I overslept. I—”

“—Plagg didn’t tell you?” Her concern turned into confusion.

Adrien came to a halt and blinked. “Tell me what?”

“I came into your room this morning to turn off your alarm because the photoshoot has been cancelled due to the rain.” She motioned outside where the melodies of the storm were in full concert. “I asked Plagg to let you sleep and to tell you about the cancellation once you’d woken up. He didn’t tell you?” Nathalie’s eyes shifted to Adrien’s shirt collar, a popular Plagg hiding spot.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Plagg replied flippantly.

“I hate you,” Adrien muttered. “I seriously hate you, Plagg.”

“Plagg,” Nathalie tsked. “I am disappointed in you.”

“You didn’t have to listen to him go on and on last night, trying to decide whether his evening with Marinette counted as a date. Twenty minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Plagg countered. “With the giggling and the squirming and the blushing. He is insufferable when he goes all gooey over a girl. You don’t have to live in hyper-proximity to him twenty-four-seven. You don’t know what it’s really like.”

“I’m sure,” Nathalie sighed, adjusting her glasses.

“ _Plagg_!” Adrien groaned, his cheeks beginning to rival the red of the foliage in the planters on either side of the front door.

“Oh. Whooooops,” Plagg chuckled mockingly. “Was I not supposed to talk about your new crush in front of your father’s girlfriend?”

“Plagg,” Adrien whispered plaintively, praying his kwami would stop.

Plagg gave a defiant snort. “This is your punishment for almost getting yourself killed, Kid. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before you nearly die on me.”

“Why, Plagg,” Nathalie hummed. “It almost sounds as if you care.”

Plagg made a show of scoffing at this. “We all know I’m just in it for the cheese.”

“Yes. We are all clear on that point.” Nathalie curbed a smile of amusement as she turned her attention back to Adrien. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was overstepping her bounds by commenting. “So…. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The receding blush on Adrien’s cheeks made a swift and enthusiastic comeback.

He spluttered a bit before he managed to cobble together, “It’s just a crush. It’s not a big deal.”

“Forgive my presumptiveness for asking, but…are we giving up on Ladybug?” Nathalie held her breath as she waited for an answer.

Adrien looked away and shrugged. “Maybe. Now is as good a time as any, I guess. I don’t expect anything to come of my crush on Marinette, just so you know, but…like I told Plagg, it will be a nice change of pace…less painful.”

A miniscule wince escaped Nathalie’s usual emotionless fortress. “Forgive me for saying so, but your partner has absolutely no taste when it comes to men. For such a bright girl, she’s an utter fool.”

Adrien couldn’t help but crack a smile at Nathalie’s loyalty. “Thanks for saying so, even if it’s not true. You rock, Nathalie.”

“What do you mean ‘even if it’s not true’?” Nathalie sniffed indignantly. “I am an entirely impartial third party relaying only the facts. Ladybug has no taste. Miss Dupain-Cheng is an objectively superior choice.”

Adrien shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “She probably isn’t interested in me either. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m not looking to get a relationship out of this…just…” He considered for a minute, rubbing at the back of his neck. “…maybe just to feel better about myself.” He looked up at Nathalie (who still had an inch or three on him) and smiled sheepishly. “Marinette is the kind of person who it feels good to be around. She builds other people up just with her presence. I think I could kind of use that after these past four years with Ladybug.”

Nathalie hummed pensively, tentatively reaching out a hand to pat Adrien on the shoulder twice, lightly, as if she were unsure whether or not she was permitted to touch him.

Adrien rewarded her with a grin of gratitude.

There was a beat, and then he asked, “So…what does the rest of today’s schedule look like if the photoshoot is cancelled? Wasn’t there a…uh…lunch thing or something?” He grimaced at the thought.

“Yes. That’s at one o’clock,” Nathalie reported, retreating from her foray into the role of stepmother back to the tried and true mannerisms of personal assistant. “The board members and your father will all be there, but, before that, you have a fitting at eleven-thirty. Other than that, your day is your own. Do you have any outstanding homework?”

Adrien sheepishly grinned. “A little bit?”

Nathalie raised an eyebrow. “A little bit? Is that an interrogative or a declarative sentence, Adrien?”

“I believe that’s what’s referred to in casual parlance as ‘a fib’, Nathalie,” he chuckled, readily giving himself up. “I had meant to do school assignments last night, but…you know. Bank robber. Near-death experience.” He shrugged.

She snorted. “A lovely evening with a beautiful girl? Yes. I know, Adrien. I remember last night. I spent it worried sick about you. If anyone gets to use ‘last night’ to garner sympathy, I am that person.”

“Sorry again,” Adrien muttered, scuffing at the floor tiles with the toe of his shoe.

“Don’t apologize. You’re already forgiven. Just make sure your homework is completed in a satisfactory manner,” Nathalie instructed.

“Yes, Nathalie.”

“Good. I’m glad we understand one another. Now, head on in, and I’ll have them send breakfast for you.” With a light hand on his back, she shepherded him towards the dining room.

“Thanks, Nathalie.” Adrien sent another appreciative smile her way.

 

The day dragged. It was as if gravity had been doubled and every movement took a Herculean amount of effort.

Adrien did his best to be cooperative through the fitting, and he made polite conversation with all the appropriate parties at the luncheon. He successfully fulfilled his duty as company poster boy and filial son, but it was merely going through the motions. His thoughts were elsewhere the entire time.

His thoughts were on Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to see her not just as her classmate and friend Adrien Agreste, but also as Chat Noir, the guy she’d spent hours swapping closely guarded secrets with over a wonderful spread of Greek food. He wanted that closeness that their shared traumatic experience had wrought.

He was going to see her.

“There’s no sense in taking two cars to the same place. We can all ride together.” The muffled words from outside the vehicle tugged Adrien out of his thoughts.

He gave a start when his father opened the front passenger’s side door for Nathalie.

Gabriel held the umbrella over her to keep her dry even as the rain pelted his own expensive suit jacket.

Adrien had to smile at that. He loved little stolen moments between his father and Nathalie—subtle looks and thoughtful gestures that revealed that they cared. It was good to see proof that his father hadn’t become completely hollowed out of all emotion after his mother left them.

As soon as he’d seen his employer coming, Victor, the Gorilla, had gotten out of the car and come around to cover him with an umbrella and open the back passenger’s side door.

Adrien undid his seatbelt and scooted over on the bench seat to make room for his father.

Gabriel somehow managed to gracefully fold up his six-four frame and get into the car in a dignified manner. “Adrien.” He nodded to his son.

“Father,” Adrien returned in a measured tone.

They were the first words the two had exchanged since the disagreement about the birthday party the day before.

As was customary, Adrien bowed first. “Father, I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I shouldn’t have run off like I did. It was childish, and I’m sorry.”

He thought perhaps he should apologize for asking again this year about a party, maybe admit that he was in the wrong for _wanting_ a party when Gabriel was so obviously right that it was a waste of time and that Adrien’s friends were all degenerates who were slowly infecting him…but there was no way he could say it without sounding insincere and patronizing. Furthermore, he didn’t want to say those things. He _didn’t_ think those things. He didn’t even think that his father had any logical reason for thinking those things.

An apology for the show of temper was the best Gabriel was going to get.

_“Sorry for having emotions, Dad,”_ Adrien thought sarcastically. _“I know it’s super inconvenient for you that I’m not a total robot.”_

“Apology accepted,” Gabriel muttered as Victor started up the car and signaled to merge into traffic.

Gabriel did not offer an apology on his own behalf, and, at first, Adrien thought that they were back to square one. But then Gabriel surprised Adrien by continuing.

“Nathalie has informed me that I am being unreasonable.”

Everyone in the car, saving Gabriel, tensed.

Adrien was not going to comment. He did his best not even to blink or do anything else that could be misconstrued as agreement with Nathalie’s evaluation of the situation.

“Apparently everyone else your age is allowed to throw a wild saturnalia in celebration of the day of their birth, so you’ve come to believe that I am treating you unfairly,” Gabriel summarized.

Adrien held back any accusation that Gabriel _was_ treating him unfairly in favor of listening to his father speak.

“While I still forbid any kind of party to be thrown, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided that it might be appropriate to mark the occasion of your eighteenth birthday by going out to dinner.”

Adrien sat up a little straighter. “As a family?” he inquired hopefully.

Gabriel nodded. “You, Nathalie, me…and perhaps two or three friends.”

Adrien nearly snapped his own neck, he turned his head so fast to gape at his father. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course,” Gabriel snorted, looking none too pleased. “Please coordinate with Nathalie, but I was thinking we could go to one of Alain Ducasse’s restaurants…perhaps Le Meurice…or we could go to that one at the Eiffel Tower, Le Jules Verne. Le Cinq would also be fine. Anyway, work it out with Nathalie. I assume you will be inviting Miss Dupain-Cheng, Miss Césaire, and Monsieur Lahiffe. I also assume that Miss Dupain-Cheng will be able to dress herself and Miss Césaire appropriately, but if they wish to borrow anything from a previous season, they may do so.”

“Marinette would probably really appreciate that. Thank you, Father,” Adrien responded with genuine gratitude welling in his voice. “Unless she already has something on hand that could work, it might be a little challenging for her to create two evening gowns in under a month right now. She’s doing all the costumes for the school play pretty much single-handedly.”

Gabriel nodded in full appreciation of the situation, chuckling softly as fond memories resurfaced. “That used to be me. The day we met, your mother conned me into heading the costumes crew for the production of Twelfth Night she was starring in…. I might have to go see this school play to get a look at Miss Dupain-Cheng’s work. Nathalie, please figure out the details and make it work.”

“It’s already on your schedule, Gabriel,” Nathalie replied.

Gabriel frowned. “Why is it already on my schedule?”

Nathalie turned around to bore holes through Adrien with her eyes. “You didn’t tell him? You told me that you had asked permission.”

Adrien grimaced.

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow at his son. “Adrien?”

“Surprise? I’m starring in the school play?” Adrien tried to smile, but it just looked like an open wound.

“Which play?”

Gabriel tried to reserve judgment, but it was difficult when all he could think about was Emilie. That was _her_ world, something so saturated in her being that it proved almost too painful to contemplate. It was one thing to consider theatre in the past tense, in the context of happy memories. It was one thing to contemplate seeing a performance as an outside observer there for the costumes. It was another thing entirely to consider an active attachment to that world without Emilie in it.

“Adrien and theatre” had always involved “Emilie” as well. He had often played children’s roles in shows where she was the lead. Imagining “Adrien and theatre” without the corresponding “Emilie” only summoned mental dissonance.

“We’re doing an adaptation of Maurice Leblanc’s The Blonde Lady with Holmes and Lupin…. I’m playing Arsène Lupin,” Adrien tentatively informed, holding his breath and waiting for the sword of his father’s disapproval to fall.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow as his son visibly shrank on the seat next to him. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?”

Adrien did his best to keep from squirming under his father’s intent gaze. “At first, I didn’t think I would get the part. There were a lot of people trying out, and I didn’t want to have this conversation because I didn’t think I’d get the part, so what would be the point of bringing up Mother and all the ghosts ‘theatre’ dredges up for this family? So, one day, when you were really busy and not actually listening, I asked you if it would be okay for me to help out with the school play, and you mumbled something equating, ‘Whatever’, so I told Nathalie I had permission to be in the school play, so I auditioned, and it turns out other people think I’m really good at acting, and I really enjoy it, and it would mean a lot to me if I could do more acting in the future because I’ve really, really missed it these past four years.”

Adrien came to an abrupt stop, shrinking further as he pointedly did not look at Gabriel.

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply, but no words came to mind.

He’d had no idea.

The thought that Adrien himself could have feelings about theatre independent of his mother and her career had never occurred to Gabriel. He’d have to think about this. The implications for the company…. Adrien was already a model; wasn’t acting a logical leap from there? The parts he took would have to be monitored and approved or denied based on their reflection on the company, but… But what about the running of the company once Gabriel was gone? He had always intended for Adrien to go into Business in university and eventually take over. If Adrien did marry Miss Dupain-Cheng like Gabriel had been hoping for several years now, she could fill Gabriel’s shoes, leaving Adrien with the time to pursue an acting career.

But how did one tell one’s child that they were only free to follow their dreams so long as they married an up-and-coming fashion designer to take care of the logistics of their parent’s company?

The moment to reply passed; Gabriel’s silence had turned oppressive.

Adrien further averted his eyes as he entreated. “I’m sorry. Can we please go back to talking about my birthday dinner now, please?”

Gabriel relented at the double please that signaled Adrien’s desperation. “…Miss Dupain-Cheng and Miss Césaire are welcome to borrow dresses. I can almost guarantee they will have to be altered, though. Miss Césaire has more of a curvy figure than most models, and Miss Dupain-Cheng is quite a deal shorter. Once again, coordinate with Nathalie. It shouldn’t be a problem to have the dresses altered in time for your birthday.”

“Thank you so much, Father.” Adrien grinned, finally able to breathe easily again.

“It’s a shame that she’s likely too busy to make her own dresses at the moment.” Gabriel made a little hum of disappointment. “I would have been interested in seeing what she came up with. She always does such delightful work. I’m beginning to be able to pick it out of the lineups—not that it’s repetitive or predictable. She’s just coming into her own style lately to the point where I can look at something and say, ‘This is a Marinette’ because it has that essence to it.”

“Marinette would be pleased to hear you say that,” Adrien informed softly. “She really admires you.”

“Does she?” Gabriel made a thoughtful noise.

“To the point where, when we were fourteen, she had pictures of your creations plastered all over the walls of her room,” Adrien chuckled.

Gabriel had to laugh at that. “Was that because she liked my work or your face?”

“I’m sure my face didn’t hurt,” Adrien replied with a cocky wink. “But, seriously, you’re one of her idols. She’s going to be thrilled about this.”

Gabriel nodded, unable to contain a fond smile directed towards his son. “Good to know. Now. I trust Miss Dupain-Cheng to see to herself and Miss Césaire, but, Adrien, _do_ make sure that your friend Monsieur Lahiffe is properly dressed. I’m leaving that to you. If he needs to borrow anything, he’s welcome to it.”

“Thank you, Father,” Adrien repeated. “I’m really looking forward to this.”

“Good,” Gabriel decreed, a little at a loss for words to respond. “…I’m glad that you’re excited.”

A not-quite-as-awkward-as-normal silence fell in the car, and it reigned for several minutes until Gabriel reached over and tentatively patted Adrien on the knee, saying, “…Your mother would be very pleased that you’re acting.”

Adrien’s eyes flew wide, and he stared almost in disbelief at his father. Had those words really left Gabriel’s lips?

“T-Thank you,” Adrien struggled to reply.

The shining grin on Adrien’s face at Gabriel’s gift of much-sought-after parental approval was thanks enough for Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to say that sometimes writing dialogue irks me to no end. By that, I mean that whenever correct grammar dictates that "whom" should be used, I want to write "whom". The problem is that even though I speak like that, not all of the characters do. Nathalie and Gabriel would use whom correctly. Adrien would most of the time unless it sounded too uptight and formal for the situation like the one instance in this chapter. Marinette, Alya, and Nino...completely up in the air. Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
> 
> Anyway! How do we like Gabriel in this story? Surprise. He's an Adrienette shipper. Something I've decided about Emilie is that she was a stage actress, and that's why there aren't that many films with her in them. Adrien, therefore grew up with theatre as an important part of his life, and he's been missing it since his mother's been gone.
> 
> Do you think Plagg's revenge on Adrien at the beginning of the chapter was too mean? Plagg would total do something like that, though.
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll see you guys next Monday with Chapter Five.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Adoption/Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat and Marinette become parents.  
> Chat gets friend-zoned. Hard.  
> Chat and Adrien learn a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Happy (?) Monday! Thank you for joining me for Chapter Five, and thank you so much to everyone who has commented, left kudos, and/or bookmarked this story. Your support is always so wonderful, and I appreciate the encouragement.
> 
> If you're interested in Adrienette, I'm doing a series of drabbles called There's a Daisy. You can also come check me out on Tumblr: https://mikauzoran.tumblr.com/ .
> 
> Or you could just enjoy the chapter. Happy reading!

Chapter Five: Adopting a Family

The rolling thunder rumbled lazily after the bold flash of lighting doing a grand jeté across the sky, and Chat Noir tugged his hood down a little more to keep out the rain.

He still wasn’t sure this was entirely a good idea as he knocked on the side door of Tom and Sabine’s bakery, but, good idea or not, he could no longer wait to see Marinette as Chat Noir. After some (but probably not enough) thought, he’d decided that it wouldn’t be enough to see her at school the next day as Adrien, so Adrien had completed his homework, left a note for Nathalie, transformed, and headed out into the rain.

Plagg had grumbled something about idiots in love before being sucked into the ring.

Adrien couldn’t help it. He’d been fidgety all day thinking about her, remembering things she’d said, wondering what she would think about the various looks he tried on at the fitting and the big-name people he spoke with at the luncheon. He’d practically vibrated through his history reading, he’d been so anxious to get out and see her.

Unlike Ladybug, Marinette was someone Chat Noir and Adrien could see almost whenever they wanted, and Adrien could already tell that this was going to be a problem.

“If I go visit her, it’ll calm me down,” Adrien had argued, pretending that he was being sensible.

“If you go visit her, you’ll come home love-drunk and useless, and then you’ll start getting antsy about when you can see her next,” Plagg snorted as he savored the cheese Adrien had preemptively bribed him with. “I’ve seen drug addicts before, Kid. Henry used the same kind of reasoning and arguments about opium.”

Adrien was silent. A part of him wanted to protest that Marinette was not a dangerous substance, but it didn’t feel right to keep up the debate when Plagg had shared something so personal and painful from the past.

“Can I help you?” Tom Dupain’s voice broke into Chat Noir’s thoughts, jarring him back into the present. Oddly, there was a touch of distrust and a hint of “what the hell do _you_ want?” in Tom’s question.

It took Chat a moment to realize that Tom didn’t recognize Chat in the coat. He looked like a shady, black-cloaked figure loitering on the bakery doorstep. Of course Tom was on guard.

Chat pulled back the hood a bit to smile up at the baker. “Good Afternoon, Monsieur Dupain. How are you doing today?”

Tom gave a small start before breaking into a pleased grin of his own. “Chat Noir! Hello there, Son. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was you. What brings you out in this lousy weather? I thought cats didn’t like getting wet.”

Chat grimaced. He hadn’t prepared for this part. “Oh, you know. I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I would drop by.”

“Oh, really?” Tom chuckled, picking up on the evasiveness in Chat’s answer. “Well, good of you to say hi.”

There was a beat where Tom facetiously decided to give the boy a hard time and not to be helpful in the slightest.

Chat tried to sound nonchalant as he asked, “Is Marinette at home by any chance?” as if that hadn’t been the sole and express purpose of his trip.

“Yes. I believe she’s been back about an hour now.” Tom’s grin widened.

Chat nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You see, I just wanted to see how she was doing…after everything yesterday.”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Tom assured. “It was nice of you to stop by and ask, Chat Noir.”

Chat pursed his lips. “You’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Tom admitted smugly. “You’re standing on my doorstep in the rain, holding a rose, and asking about my daughter. What kind of father would I be if I just let you in?”

Chat winced. “Merciful? I know how this looks, but there’s nothing romantic going on between Marinette and me.”

Tom lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Two words: Papa Garou.”

Chat shrank, averting his gaze. “Okay. Yeah. I deserve that.”

“No, you don’t,” Tom snorted lightly, moving his bulk to the side, out of the doorframe. “Come in, Chat Noir.”

Chat hesitated for a minute, blinking uncertainly as Tom smiled kindly down at him. “I…don’t?” He took a tentative step over the threshold.

Tom shook his head as he closed the door behind Chat. “There’s no law saying that you have to be in love with my daughter. There _should_ be, but there isn’t. You were well within your rights not to return Marinette’s feelings, and I’ve always appreciated that you did it gently and honestly. _I_ was the one in the wrong, Chat Noir. …I don’t think I ever properly apologized to you for that. I’m sorry.”

Chat looked away with a shrug, lowering his hood to his shoulders. “Thank you, Monsieur Dupain. That actually means a lot to me.”

“Sure thing, Son,” Tom replied gently before turning to call around back into the bakery. “Sabine? Could you run up and get Marinette? Chat Noir is here to see her.”

“What?” Sabine came striding through the doorway to the shop, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face lit up when she saw the superhero in her foyer. “Oh! Chat Noir, how lovely to see you. What a beautiful rose! Wait right here, Dear, and I’ll go and fetch Marinette to come greet you.” Sabine took the stairs two at a time in her enthusiasm.

“Here we go again,” Tom sighed, gazing after his wife. “Usually, _I’m_ the one who gets overexcited, but Sabine has gotten it in her head that last night between you and Marinette was something more than what it was.”

“I really hope I don’t let her down and get her akumatized,” Chat muttered, turning pale.

Tom gave Chat a reassuring thump on the back. “Don’t worry about it. Sabine is far more sensible than I am…. Though, she does have her black belt in three different martial arts, so even if you _don’t_ get her akumatized…” Tom let the thought hang in the air between them.

“Wasn’t it four?” Chat raised an eyebrow. “I thought Marinette said Madame Dupain-Cheng used to compete in four different styles, but now she just does a little judo and tai chi to stay in shape?”

Tom’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You two really covered all the bases, didn’t you?”

Chat smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well…we did talk for over four hours. She got to hear about my mother’s acting career and all the violin competitions my brother won too.”

Tom nodded slowly, unsure what to make of this new development.

At the top of the stairs, the door to the apartment opened, and Chat could just make out Sabine whispering, “…but don’t you want to fix your hair or put on some makeup or something, Honey?”

Marinette scoffed at the very idea, her tone slightly peeved. “Maman, I love you, but I am not dolling myself up for Chat Noir. He’s a friend. Friends don’t care if you look like something the cat dragged in.”

Chat chuckled appreciatively at the remark, earning a raised eyebrow from Tom who did not have Chat’s enhanced hearing. “Something Marinette snarked,” he explained.

Tom nodded, puffing his chest out proudly. “My girl is quite snarky.”

“Yeah, it’s one of her charm points.” Chat grinned, beginning to fidget in excitement as Marinette’s footsteps came closer. His tail flicked in anticipation.

Tom sighed heavily, keeping his voice low. “Here we go again. You’re sure there’s nothing romantic going on between you two? Your face just lit up like a searchlight at the sound of her voice. That’s a little…telling.”

“We’re just friends,” Chat reiterated with a little sigh of his own as he listened to Marinette insist the same thing to her mother.

“Mmhm.” Tom wanted to point out that Chat’s tail was wagging, for goodness sake. “Well. I have a fuzzy memory of kicking your butt a couple years ago, but I also have a hazy recollection of how hard you fought to save Marinette, even though you didn’t return her feelings.”

Chat chanced a curious, sidelong glance at Tom, wondering what the baker was getting at.

“If you can put that much effort in for someone you don’t love…I can only imagine how well you would take care of my daughter if you did have feelings for her. What I’m saying,” Tom explained with a knowing grin, “is that I wouldn’t be opposed if you decided you maybe did want to court Marinette after all. You’re a decent guy, Chat Noir.”

“Thank you,” Chat replied softly, oddly touched at this unsought approval so freely given. It felt really good to be paid a sincere compliment unexpectedly. “But I don’t think that’s what Marinette wants.” He put on a practiced smile. He said nothing of what he himself wanted. He couldn’t really be sure what it was that Chat wanted…what Adrien wanted. “I think I missed my chance with her, but…just friends is fine. She’s a good friend, and that’s not something you come across very often.”

Tom opened his mouth to reply, but, just then, Sabine and Marinette came around the corner and into earshot.

“Maman!” Marinette huffed as Sabine tried to fuss with Marinette’s hair. “It’s fine. I look fine.”

“Definitely not like something the cat dragged in,” Chat snickered.

“Eavesdropping is rude, heightened senses or no.” Marinette stuck out her tongue and winked before trotting down the remaining steps into the foyer to greet him. “Hey there, Minou!”

“Hey there, Princess,” he returned, and he was about to hold out the rose to her when she became irretrievably distracted by his coat.

“Is that an Organization XIII jacket?!” she gasped, and suddenly her hands were all over him, feeling the seams, admiring the texture of the leather, running along the chain at his collarbone, testing the two-way zipper.

It was then that Chat got a clear whiff of her scent, undiluted by Tom and Sabine and the rest of the bakery.

Chat was sort of used by now to occasionally catching a hint of Marinette’s scent and having his instincts come back with “Protect: Mate” from time to time (even though this made no sense because he had never really thought about his friend that way). The same “Protect: Mate” urge occurred more frequently and more intensely with Ladybug—which made sense. Adrien and Chat both tried not to think too long or too hard about the false positives he sometimes got with Marinette.

Today, though, there was something different about Marinette’s scent. She still had the strawberry smell of her shampoo, the oatmeal scent of her bodywash, and the sweet and savory bakery notes that permeated herself and everything she owned, but there was now something additional. It was musky, earthy, and wet, and it was tripping all of Chat’s wires, making his instincts scream, “Protect! Protect!”

“This is so cool! It’s really well-made too. You kind of look like Roxas. Where did you get this?” Marinette shot off in rapid-fire succession before looking up at him expectantly, unaware that anything was amiss.

Chat had been under the impression that Marinette played fighting games exclusively. Clearly, he had been mistaken. Not only was she familiar with Kingdom Hearts, but she also thought that Chat wearing an Organization XIII coat was _cool_.

This girl was so awesome.

“Uh…it’s actually magic,” Chat explained bashfully. “It’s hard to pole-vault over rooftops while carrying an umbrella, so I thought of this coat from the game, and Plagg made it a reality.” To prove his point, Chat closed his eyes and willed the coat away.

Marinette gave a little jump and stared at her partner in awe. “You…can do that?”

Could _Ladybug_ do that?

Chat shrugged. “Yeah. I mean…it took a lot of practice, but now it’s pretty easy to change the suit. See?”

With a blink of green light, an additional belt was added to Chat Noir’s costume, slung diagonally across his hips. With another flash, it was gone.

“My kwami Plagg doesn’t like when I mess with it too much, though. Besides, I’m pretty fond of the costume design I originally came up with, so I don’t know that I’d want to change anything drastically.” Chat shrugged sheepishly.

“That’s amazing, Chat Noir,” Marinette muttered, making a note to talk to Tikki about this later.

“Thanks. Um…so…how are you doing?” Chat nervously held out the rose. “I couldn’t stop”

Thinking about you.

“worrying about you today.”

Did that sound any less incriminating?

“You know. After the excitement from last night,” he ended lamely, hoping neither she nor her parents would infer anything.

Marinette blinked, taking the rose and studying it thoughtfully. “Thank you. That’s awfully sweet of you. Actually, today’s been pretty crazy, so I haven’t had much time to think since lunch. I’d almost forgotten about last night’s drama. I think I’m okay, though.” She sent him what she hoped was a convincing smile. “I didn’t sleep very well, but I seem to be okay while conscious.”

Marinette paused to look pointedly at both of her parents. “I think Chat Noir and I are good here, if you two want to get back to work.”

Tom put his hands up in surrender and slunk back into the bakery. Sabine followed reluctantly, lips pursed.

Marinette knew they would both be eavesdropping from the other side of the doorway. With a sigh, she turned back to Chat, giving him a once over. Visibly, he looked the same as always, but that didn’t mean he was okay.

“And how are you doing?” she inquired softly.

He forced a smile for her, parting his lips to lie.

She shook her head. “No. Seriously. How are you _really_ doing?”

Chat closed his mouth and reevaluated his response. “I’m hanging in there, Princess. I got maybe three or so hours of decent sleep where I didn’t hear you screaming or see you dead on the pavement, so…”

“Oh, Minou,” Marinette cooed, stepping in to wrap her arms around her partner, careful not to squish the rose he had given her. “Yeah. I can relate. I had some pretty nasty nightmares too.”

“Those are not the kinds of dreams I want you to be having about me, Marinette,” Chat teased into her hair, making her laugh.

She pulled back so that he could see her roll her eyes. “Seriously? You know my parents are still listening, don’t you?”

Chat shrugged once more, unfazed. “Let them listen. You flirt with your other friends, don’t you? I’ve seen you and Alya, you and Nino. Why should I be any different?”

“My mother is under the impression that we’re serious,” Marinette groaned.

“Your mother is a sensible woman. Sooner or later she’s going to realize that you’re not into me,” Chat snickered, leaning in to nuzzle her hair before letting Marinette go.

“One can only hope,” Marinette answered in halfway between a sigh and a chuckle.

“…I missed you,” Chat confessed in a small, vulnerable voice. “Is that weird? I just saw you last night, but…I missed you today.”

“Not weird, no,” Marinette assured. “ _I_ don’t think so, at least. We’re probably still rattled from the bank robber, though. Maybe it’s just shock or…I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about you pretty much today too, even with…”

Suddenly Marinette trailed off, her eyes going wide. “Shoot. I need to get back up to my room. _Now_. Come with me?”

Chat went tense at the panic in Marinette’s voice. “Uh…sure. What’s wrong?”

“I left—you’ll see.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the steps.

Tom called out from the bakery, “How _are_ the little monsters doing, Marinette?”

“Really well! Except for the black one. I swear he’s possessed,” she hissed. “Literally possessed!”

They tore up the stairs to the apartment and dashed through the trapdoor to Marinette’s room to find five kittens either napping or playing inside a pen that had been jerry-rigged for them over by Marinette’s chaise longue.

_That_ was the additional scent that Chat had been picking up from Marinette. That was the scent that made his instincts scream “Protect!”

Kittens. Marinette had kittens, and it was doing something really weird to the cat part of Chat Noir’s mental circuitry.

A sixth kitten—a pure black one with Ladybug-blue eyes—was out of the pen, scampering across the carpet, playing with a skein of yarn it had stolen from Marinette’s sewing basket.

“Djinn!” Marinette shrieked, rushing to separate the kitten from the yarn. “That’s your name now, you little imp. Why can’t you just stay in the pen with your brothers and sisters? Why do you have to stage a jailbreak every time I turn my back?”

Marinette scooped up the kitten, cradling it to her chest as she turned to smile sheepishly at Chat Noir—Chat Noir, who was awestruck because that black kitten had _Marinette_ -blue eyes.

That was what their children would look like.

Adrien made a mental note to have a discussion with Plagg concerning the cat instincts and if they could be turned down because this was absolutely _ridiculous_ , in the words of Chloé. It was one thing for his brain to think, “Oh. We’re in love with Marinette now” because of the shock and adrenaline and irregular heartbeat of the night before. It was another thing entirely for the cat part of his brain to start thinking about marriage and making _more_ kittens just because Marinette was holding a blue-eyed, black kitten.

“I went out for a walk today, and I didn’t get far when I found a box of kittens left out in the rain to drown or catch hypothermia or whatever, so…I brought them in, cleaned them, tried to warm them up, took them to the vet, tried to get them adopted…”

Djinn reached out a paw to bat at the rose.

“Djinn,” Marinette scolded lightly, attempting to separate the rose and the kitten without dropping either.

“Here.” Chat was at her side in three long strides, reaching out to take the kitten.

“Oh. Thanks,” Marinette chuckled sheepishly, gingerly handing Djinn over. “Hold on just a sec while I put this down.” She went to her desk and stuck the red rose into a vase already occupied by two old, dried roses: one pink, one red.

Djinn batted at Chat’s bell, making the superhero laugh. “Hey there, Junior.”

Djinn looked up and mewed in response, and it made Chat’s heart melt a little.

He wanted a kitten.

His father would _never_ allow him to have a kitten…either with Marinette or by adoption.

“I can take him back now,” Marinette offered, holding her hands out for Djinn.

Chat almost protested but decided that it was probably best to separate himself from Djinn before he fell even further in love with the kitten he couldn’t have. “Have they all been adopted?” He glanced down into the pen containing the other five bundles of fur.

“Most of them.” Marinette slowly lowered Djinn back into the pen with his brothers and sisters. “Want to meet the rest of the litter?”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” Chat snickered, coming to kneel next to the pen, peeking over the side at the fluff balls.

Marinette slumped onto the chaise, pointing down at the kittens. “The white one is Blanche Neige, of course. She’s going to my friends, Rose and Juleka.”

Chat nodded, watching Blanche Neige lap daintily from the shallow water dish.

“The black and white one is Tux. He’s going to my friend Mylène and her boyfriend Ivan from my class.”

Tux was currently asleep, belly up and arched in an uncomfortable-looking crescent moon shape.

“Archer is the ginger tomcat over there in the corner with the look of existential dread on his face. He’s being adopted by another friend and classmate, Nathaniel.”

Chat briefly wondered if Nathaniel’s feelings for Marinette had completely dissipated over the years since Nathaniel had been dating Marc.

“The calico is Scheherazade,” Marinette sighed as Scheherazade launched herself at Djinn, initiating kitty warfare in the form of a bout of wrestling. “She’s almost as much of a handful as Djinn. She’s going to my best friend Alya—I know you know the Ladyblog girl—and her boyfriend Nino. It’s my understanding that they’re going to timeshare the cat until they get their own apartment together or get married or something in the next couple years.”

Scheherazade wrapped her arms around Djinn, tackling him to the floor and almost knocking him into Archer who let out an odd shriek of existential horror before skittering over to hide behind Tux who remained blissfully unconscious and oblivious to the doings of his siblings.

Djinn rolled Scheherazade over, giving her a sound kick and a solid bat.

Scheherazade wisely decided to cut her losses and slunk away to try to start something with Blanche Neige over by the water dish.

“Djinn you’ve already met,” Marinette continued with introductions.

“Does he have a home yet?” Chat wondered when Marinette didn’t elaborate of her own accord.

She shook her head sadly. “No one wants a black cat.” Marinette winced even as the words were leaving her lips. “…Uh…Sorry. No offence?” She turned a sheepish gaze on her partner.

Chat Noir shrugged. “None taken. I am a little surprised that people are still so superstitious, especially when I’ve been protecting them for the past four years, though.”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed. “You would think black cats would be more popular, but…I have tried literally everyone I know. I’ve called friends, I’ve called schoolmates…the people I babysit, people I know from the bakery… I called Chloé, Chat Noir.”

Marinette had not called Adrien.

Maybe she had correctly deduced that Adrien’s father would never allow him to have a cat, so there was really no point in asking, but…it still would have been nice for her to have called anyway.

“Wow. You really are scrapping the bottom of the barrel,” he replied, trying not to let the twinge of hurt he was feeling show.

“Yep. So…I think Djinn is my cat…until I can find someone else who wants him. My parents actually seem pretty okay with it as long as I keep him up here in my room or down in the living room area. They don’t want cats on the first floor in their space or down on the ground floor with the bakery, but…I guess I have a cat now…maybe two cats.”

The hair on the back of Chat’s neck stood up, and a wave of excitement washed over him until he realized that she had meant the other kitten that had yet to be introduced and not Chat Noir himself.

Chat indicated the small grey kitten with Marinette-blue eyes curled up in a hand towel. “That kitten doesn’t have a home either?”

Marinette shook her head. “As you can see, she’s the runt. The vet said she was okay, but she’s a lot frailer than the others. She might not make it. She might be fine given time and love. I don’t know. No one’s really wanted to take a chance on her.”

Chat reached out for the kitten but then paused and looked to Marinette for approval. “May I?”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “Of course. Go ahead. I’m sure she’d like some attention.”

“She doesn’t have a name?” Chat carefully scooped up the grey kitten, bringing her in to his chest.

“No. The owners all named their own kittens. I just came up with Djinn’s name on the spot a minute ago. No one’s named this one yet.” Marinette grabbed Djinn as he hopped up over the wall of the pen to land on the chaise beside Marinette.

Chat looked down into the grey kitten’s eyes and immediately felt an intense pressure in his chest.

She mewed and began to purr weakly as she stretched up to bump her head against the underside of his jaw.

Chat returned the nuzzle with interest, lifting the kitten up to his face to rub his cheek against hers. He purred quietly back.

“Uh-oh. Someone’s in love,” Marinette snickered, pulling out her phone to capture a picture of Chat Noir and the kitten, nose to nose.

“Understatement,” Chat sighed, reluctantly setting the kitten back down on her towel.

All it had taken was an instant. Adrien wasn’t sure if it was entirely the doing of his cat instincts or not, but he just knew that that kitten was his child, and he was going to take her home and fight his father tooth and nail to keep her.

“Sooo,” Marinette began to wheedle in her own version of a purr. “At the tender age of seventeen, I find myself single mother to two cats…but how do _you_ feel about cats, Chat Noir? I know you adore children from how much you gushed about your niece last night, but how do you feel about kittens? Have you ever thought about kittens, Minou?”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Princess, are you trying to seduce me and trick me into becoming the father of your kittens?”

Marinette blinked in surprise at first, but, the next second, she was grinning playfully, eyes smoldering at him. “That depends.” She stretched out on her chaise in the most sultry pose she could manage, trying to look alluring. “Is it working?”

Chat took in her hair, frizzy from the rain and pulled up into a messy ponytail. He surveyed her tight yoga pants and the black and white leather bomber jacket he had bought for her the night before.

True, Marinette looked a bit of a mess at the moment, but she had always been his type. He had never allowed himself to think of her that way before, but she was a petite Asian woman with blue eyes. Marinette checked all of Adrien’s boxes, and if it hadn’t been completely out of the question because it would ruin their friendship, then, yes, Adrien would definitely agree to father kittens with Marinette.

Looking at her then, he had to remind himself that that was off the table.

Instead of acting on impulse and pinning her down on the chaise to kiss her, Chat mentally kicked himself and smirked puckishly.

“Yeah. A little bit.” He threw in a nonchalant shrug to keep her from guessing at how she was currently ringing all of his bells. “But I take my virtue very seriously. You’ll have to wed me before you can bed me, Marinette.”

Lies. He’d be ready to go then and there if not for the presence of the children.

Marinette chuckled and opened her mouth to retort when something occurred to her. She sat up, scooping Djinn back into her arms and petting him as a serious expression settled onto her face.

“Problem, Princess?”

Had he crossed a line? It hadn’t seemed like it a second ago when she’d laughed.

“We need to talk about something,” she answered as if just realizing it herself. She seemed to be caught off guard.

The muscles in Chat’s back, neck, and shoulders tensed instinctively at those familiar words. That was what Ladybug said when they needed to have _another_ discussion about how his behavior was inappropriate or how he was making her uncomfortable or how she still liked someone else so he should really give up and try to move on already because Ladybug couldn’t stand hurting him like this. “We need to talk about something” was never a _good_ discussion in Chat’s experience.

“Okay,” he easily agreed, trying to sound disinterested, aloof, unaffected. “What’s up?”

Marinette’s cheeks took on a faint rosy tint, and she pointedly looked down at the kitten, using the little fluff ball as a prop to avoid eye contact. “This is going to be awkward, but please bear with me for a few minutes. If we’re going to be friends like this—” She looked up to get her point across. “and I really, really want to be friends with you like this, Chat Noir” She cast her gaze back down at Djinn. “—we really need to be on the same page about some things. I don’t want either of us to feel uncomfortable or for there to be misunderstandings.”

“Okay,” he prompted. “I’m listening.”

She wet her lips and took a steadying breath. “Remember when I told you I was in love with you?”

“Oh.” Chat gulped. “Yeah. We’re gonna talk about that?”

She nodded. “I think we need to.”

Chat inhaled deeply. “Okay. Shoot.”

Marinette changed her mind about using Djinn as a distraction and set him back down in the pen. She met Chat’s gaze earnestly. “Chat Noir, I think you’ve figured out by now that I wasn’t actually in love with you.”

He tried to keep his face neutral because no, he had not come to that realization. So much for Marinette being the first and only girl to tell him that she loved him. Or did that still count because she technically had said it, even if she hadn’t meant it?

“I only thought I was because of…” She gave a little huff of frustration with herself. “There were a lot of things going on at that time. Do you remember Glaciator? When you visited me on my balcony and I told you there was this guy that I was kind of torn up about?”

Chat nodded, drawing on all of his acting skills to remain blank and expressionless.

“And then you showed me the romantic surprise you’d set up for Ladybug, and you carried me in your arms, and…” Her blush deepened as she looked off to the side out the window. “And there was that time with Le Dessinateur when Nathaniel was akumatized and we teamed up…and any of the countless other times you scooped me up and saved me…”

Her eyes went back to his. “I wasn’t being fair to you. I was just really emotional at the time because of that other guy, so I thought…you were really romantic and sweet and cool and brave, so I thought…why not? And then when you showed up on my balcony…I said what I said. I didn’t realize how dumb I was being until after Papa was akumatized, and then, at that point, it seemed stupid to bring it up, but…now that we’re going to be friends, I think it’s really important for you to know that I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to take my feelings for some other guy and transfer them onto you and to tell you I loved you when I didn’t even know you that well. I’m sorry, Chat Noir, and I’m sorry you had to go through everything with my dad on top of that.”

A genuine smile broke onto Chat’s lips at the sincerity of her apology. “It’s okay, Marinette. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do because it was really unfair to you, and I’ve always kind of felt bad about that,” she sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “And now that we’re becoming friends, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I need you to understand what happened and know that I don’t have feelings for you.”

She was trying to reassure him, but it kind of just ended up stinging.

“I’m not interested in you romantically, so you never have to second-guess my actions. As I told you before, I’m a rampant flirt. I’m going to make jokes and inappropriate suggestions, but you never have to worry that I actually mean it. I’m super affectionate, but you never have to wonder if there’s something more to it if I kiss your cheek or hang all over you or snuggle up to you on the couch as we watch a movie. I want to be your friend, Chat Noir. _Just_ friends, so you never have to be afraid that I want more from you than that.”

She smiled fondly at him, and it hurt.

She was trying to make him feel comfortable and safe in the relationship—which he would have greatly appreciated had he not decided the night before that he had a crush on her. Now, being told that he would never get out of the friend-zone with her…it was kind of a curb stomp to his ego.

Still. She was expecting him to say something. He had to come up with some kind of appropriate response.

“I…Thank you, Marinette. I really appreciate you going out of your way to set things straight between us. I’m really…I’m grateful for you considering my feelings like that.” He bit his lip, feeling like there was something else he should say to make his words feel more natural, less stilted and perfunctory. Before he could censor himself, “You’re sure you’re not even remotely interested in me?” slipped out.

She laughed— _laughed_ —and shook her head. “No, Chat Noir. I’m positive. Don’t worry. Objectively, you’re very attractive, but you’re not my type.”

“Oh.” Chat chuckled to the best of his ability, but it didn’t ring quite true. At least she had said that he was _objectively_ attractive. That had saved his self-esteem a little bit.

“Besides, I’m still in love with someone else,” she added with the kind of content smile that hinted that a girl had a secret.

“Oh?” An irrational spike of jealousy hit Chat hard before he managed to stuff it back down to the place where he kept all of his negative emotions bottled up.

Marinette nodded and happened to glance at the photos on her wall. “Yep.”

Chat followed her gaze and then got up to look at her collection. “Do you mind?” he didn’t think to ask until he was already staring at her photos.

“Go for it,” she chuckled, grabbing Djinn as he made another escape attempt.

Chat remembered that, back in the day, Marinette had decorated her bedroom with an abundance of Gabriel fashion ads. At one time, Adrien had narcissistically fancied that maybe he himself was the reason for her fascination with the advertisements, but that was quickly proven not to have been the case.

After the L’Insaisissable incident, Marinette had rotated in different designers’ work and more photographs of her friends until, now, three years after the fact, there were no posters with Adrien’s face on them. There were still Gabriel ads featuring other models, and there were plenty of other designers represented, but the majority of the wall-space was dedicated to photographs of Marinette and her friends—of which, Adrien made up a respectable number, but…Marinette was clearly no longer a fan, and that kind of…didn’t feel good.

Chat paused before a photograph of just Marinette and Adrien taken in the Parc du Champ de Mars. It was a selfie Adrien had insisted upon because he claimed not to have enough photographic evidence that he had real-life friends. They were sixteen, and Adrien practically had to physically force Marinette to get close enough to him so that they could fit the Eiffel Tower into the shot behind them. But there they were, cheek to cheek, smiling, one of Adrien’s hands holding the camera, the other comfortably resting on Marinette’s hip.

It was a good shot of the two of them. A pleasant memory. He was kind of glad to see it in such a nice frame, enlarged and given so much space on her wall.

“Is this the guy you’re in love with?” Chat joked even as he internally berated himself. “You make such a cute couple.”

Why pursue this? Why ask her to hurt you? Why do you need her to tell you no to both of your faces?

“You think so?” Marinette giggled, giving Djinn an affectionate nuzzle. “I don’t know. He’s so much prettier than I am. He’s a model—Adrien Agreste. Is it any wonder he’s been breaking my heart for four years running?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Go ahead and scream. I am covering my ears.
> 
> Djinn can also be spelled "jinn". It's kind of pronounced like "gin". They're creatures in Middle Eastern mythology (sometimes called genies, but, no, they don't all grant wishes) along with angels and demons. They fall somewhere in between that spectrum because they can do either good things or bad things. I always think of them as mischievous spirits, so that's why Marinette names Djinn "Djinn". I would totally name a cat this.
> 
> Just FYI, "Blanche Neige" is "Snow White" in French. Because Rose would, and Juleka would just go along with it. She and Luka probably call her something else in secret, though. 
> 
> I went back and forth on whether I wanted to use the French spelling of "Scheherazade" (Shh-hair-uh-zod). I eventually decided on the English version since I don't think a lot of my readers are French speakers, and "Scheherazade" can look pretty intimidating to those not familiar with The Thousand and One Nights/One Thousand and One Nights/The Arabian Nights, so I didn't want to make an already intimidating, foreign name look even more intimidating and foreign. For those of you who don't know, in the story, Scheherazade marries a sultan who has been putting his wives to death after their wedding night, and she tells him stories with cliffhangers every night so that the sultan will put a stay on her execution. Alya and Nino like strong women, so they have named their daughter after the legendary storyteller. I would also totally name a cat this.
> 
> Also, some of you are probably wondering how kittens from the same litter can have such drastically different coloration. This is actually possible. A female cat in heat can mate with several partners and have eggs fertilized by each of them. The kittens in this story are probably half-siblings by two or three different fathers. Not that you ever wanted to know that, but I just wanted to let you know that Mikau does research. ^.^ Sometimes about the silliest things. ^.^;
> 
> Speaking of research, this story has required a lot of it. I was never allowed to have a cat growing up, and now that I'm an adult renting from my parents, they still don't want a cat in their house, so I've never really interacted with cats before. In order to study cat behavior and movement, I went to visit a friend I made on my spring break Cuba trip. She and her husband have eight cats, and they were good enough to have me over to hang out and play with cats for a few hours.
> 
> In other news, “the L’Insaisissable” is weird grammatically due to the double definite article back to back in English and then French, but...I wasn't sure what to do with the word, and it sounded weird without the "the", weird without the "L'", so..."the L'" it is.
> 
> See you next Monday, guys. Thank you for reading!


	6. Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette drops a few bombshells on Chat.  
> Chat brings home a little bundle of fur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome back. Sorry for the cliffhanger last time. Here is the thrilling continuation. Thanks so much to everyone who commented, left kudos, or bookmarked the story.
> 
> Announcement: There will not be an update next week. I'm sorry guys. I started working on a side project, and it's gotten a little out of control. I've completely lost my grip on things. The next update will be Monday, 06/24/2019. Thanks so much for your patience.

Chapter Six: Bringing Home Baby

Chat Noir had to put a hand on Marinette’s ladder to steady himself.

That could not have meant what he thought it meant. Marinette was joking. There was no way she could seriously like Adrien, let alone like Adrien for four whole years without Adrien knowing. He must have misunderstood.

“You… Sorry?”

“Don’t be. Adrien’s such a sweet guy. It’s not even his fault,” Marinette sighed wistfully but not exactly melancholically.

“You…love…have been in love with…Adrien Agreste? For four years?” Chat gulped, trying to process her words, their implications.

“Yep.” Marinette set down Djinn and reached for Scheherazade as the calico kitten mewed plaintively for attention. This made Blanche Neige jealous of her sister, and Marinette ended up with two kittens on her lap.

“He’s…attractive.” Chat stared at the photograph and tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. He tried to keep up the conversation. He tried not to panic because what the hell was he doing there in Marinette’s room in disguise being a total creeper? He should _not_ have heard that. He was a terrible friend. Everything was wrong with this on multiple levels.

Marinette snorted at his comment and corrected, “He’s _smart_. He’s a genius at maths, and he’s the only reason I finally _got_ the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. Actually,” Marinette giggled, and Chat finally turned to look at her, observing the cute blush on her cheeks, the glint in her eyes as she continued, “he told me this really stupid, nerdy joke that I think you’ll appreciate.”

Chat’s eyes widened because she wasn’t about to…was she? She _was_.

“So, Heisenberg gets pulled over for speeding, and the policeman asks him, ‘Sir, do you know how fast you were going?’ Heisenberg replies, ‘No, but I know exactly where I am.’ The cop looks confused and says, ‘Sir, you were going one hundred and sixty kilometers per hour, and the speed limit is—’ Heisenberg throws his hands into the air and exclaims, ‘—Great! Now I’m completely lost!’”

Chat couldn’t keep from cracking up because Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just repeated his stupid physics joke.

Marinette was tittering too as she continued, “He’s actually got a ton of those. Remind me to tell you the one about pumpkin pi later. I always thought he was such a serious guy, but it turns out he’s got a lame sense of humor like you. Fortunately, it’s cuter on him.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Chat whimpered through his laughing fit.

“I only speak the truth.” Marinette shrugged as she attempted to keep Scheherazade from wriggling out of her grasp. “Actually, I was really relieved to learn he’s a total goofball behind that mature, composed façade. He’s got a really stressful homelife and a fulltime job on top of school and all the extracurriculars his father has him doing. It was good to find out he had some kind of release because he sure doesn’t complain about any of it…at least, not even a tenth as much as he’s entitled to.”

Scheherazade swiped at Blanche Neige, and, as punishment, Marinette set the calico down and lavished her attention solely on the white kitten.

Chat opened his mouth to say something, to apologize, to maybe make the fact that Adrien was essentially eavesdropping on Marinette and Chat Noir’s conversation better, but Marinette wasn’t focusing on him and unknowingly cut him off.

“He’s so perfect,” she whispered sadly. “As I get to know him better, I fall even more in love with him, and even his flaws are perfect. I don’t know what he could ever see in me.”

Chat winced, guilt striking him down where he stood. He shouldn’t have been hearing this. “Marinette, I’m so sorry,” he sighed, covering his face with a hand. “We shouldn’t be talking about this. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have joked about it. This was a huge breach of your trust and invasion of your privacy.” He let his hand drop and met her surprised gaze with a look of contrition. “I am so sorry. I never meant to abuse your trust like this. I—”

“—Chat Noir?” she hesitantly interrupted. “It’s okay. I mean…really, it’s not a secret.”

Chat’s head tipped gradually to the side. “It’s…not,” he repeated, utterly lost.

She shook her head and smiled bashfully. “No. It’s not. Literally _everyone_ knows I have a massive crush on Adrien Agreste.” Thinking again, she winced. “Well…okay. Maybe not Adrien, but… Well…half of the time, I’m positive he has no idea. The other half, I think he’s just pretending he doesn’t know in order to spare my feelings and save our friendship, but…”

She shrugged helplessly, keeping her awkward smile pasted on. “Regardless, he’s not interested in me, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“How can you be sure he’s not interested?” It was the first thing Chat could think to say, the first coherent thought he could pluck from the scramble his brain had become.

Marinette’s shoulders hunched up, and she pointedly looked down at Blanche Neige. “He would have said something if he was, but he hasn’t, and he hasn’t shown any signs of interest, so…but that’s okay because we’re better off as just friends.”

Chat’s grip on the ladder rung tightened. Was he seriously getting double friend-zoned by the same girl?

“We’ve been like this for so long, I can’t even really imagine things changing between us. I don’t know if I’d even want things to change. I’m kind of comfortable with things the way they are now.”

“But…what if things could be even better if you two started dating?” Chat prompted, beginning to seriously entertain the idea himself.

She shook her head, setting Blanche Neige gently down in the pen as Djinn hopped back up on the chaise. “What if things go wrong and we’re not able to be friends again afterwards? What if it’s so bad we take our entire friend group down with us?”

Adrien had not considered that possibility. Maybe he should because that was a frightening prospect.

What if he started dating Marinette on this whim of his, this less-than-twenty-four-hour-long crush, and he destroyed their entire network of shared friends? Lines would be drawn in the sand. There would be sides. He would _lose_ people. He didn’t have that many people to begin with, so losing even one would be… Losing _Marinette_ would be…

It was definitely something to consider.

Later. When Marinette was not distracting him with her adorable display of nuzzling what was obviously their biological child.

He chanced pulling out Adrien’s reasonably nondescript phone and taking a picture of Marinette and Djinn.

“I’m kind of excited to have a cat,” Marinette giggled after enough time had passed in silence for a topic change to not feel forced. “I’ve never had a pet before.”

“Me either,” Chat confessed, leisurely making his way over to sit beside her on the chaise, their knees brushing. He placed his hand slightly behind her so that he leaned into her personal space noticeably but not uncomfortably so. He dipped his head down to press a kiss between Djinn’s ears.

Djinn gave a happy mew, reaching out to paw at Chat’s bell.

“I’m going to have to get you your own bell, Junior,” Chat chuckled.

“…Your father wouldn’t allow you to have a cat, would he?” Marinette sighed.

“Nope.” Chat snickered, leaning over to scoop up the little grey kitten. “So he’s probably going to throw a fit once he realizes I’ve adopted this little princess.” He gave the kitten a kiss and an affectionate nuzzle before turning to smirk at a mildly astonished Marinette. “Her name is Menthe, and she’s coming home with me…if that’s okay?”

Marinette nodded enthusiastically. “Of course it’s okay. She’s yours, if you want her. She could use a loving home, but…you’re sure things will be okay with your father?”

“Marinette, I’ve never had the courage to stand up to my father about anything,” Chat admitted sheepishly, “but I’m prepared to go toe-to-toe with him for her. Maybe he’ll stand down if I finally push back.”

“I hope so,” Marinette whispered, reaching to scratch behind Menthe’s ear.

They stayed like that, sitting and talking and playing with kittens, for another half hour until Marinette happened to look out the window and note, “It’s stopped raining. Everyone will probably be on their way to get their kittens soon. They said they’d come to fetch them once the rain stopped.”

“Should I head out?” Chat wondered.

Marinette waved away his concern. “You don’t have to. Normally, I’d be on the fence about people seeing us hanging out, but…after that news coverage yesterday, everyone already knows we’re friends…Papillon probably knows about me, so there’s really no point in making a secret out of this.”

Chat nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right, but I should head out anyway. I need to run by a pet store. Can I leave Menthe here while I get things prepped for her at home? Do you need supplies for Djinn? I could always pick up stuff for the both of us while you watch the kids and then drop Djinn’s supplies off when I come back here to collect Menthe,” he offered.

“That would be perfect, actually,” Marinette sighed in relief. “I’m going to be stuck here until everyone comes for their respective kitten, so I’m not going to have the opportunity to go on a pet store run until later this evening.”

“What do you need?” Chat did a quick scan of the room to assess what she already had.

“Everything,” Marinette muttered. “I don’t have a real litter box or food or a food bowl or a bed or a collar or anything.”

Chat nodded, taking stock of the situation. “Okay. I’ll just pick up two of everything while I’m at the store.”

“Just get the essentials,” she instructed, not wanting to be a hassle. “I can go tomorrow and buy the rest myself. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

 “You are never any trouble, Princess,” Chat chuckled with a wink. “I’ll be back in an hour. See you, Kids.” He gave Djinn and Menthe both parting kisses before depositing a similar smooch on the top of Marinette’s head.

“Seriously?” she chuckled, thinking he was being playful.

“Always,” he assured, giving her a finger salute. “I’ll let myself out.”

An hour later, a courier arrived at Tom and Sabine’s side door with a plethora of cat supplies in tow.

Chat Noir showed up minutes later wearing a sheepish smile. “I may have gotten more than just the essentials. It’ll save you the trip tomorrow.”

Marinette watched with pursed lips as a litter box, a scratching post, a cat carrier, a cat bed, a large crate, and a dozen other cat toys and accessories were carried up into her room.

Djinn mewed in delight from where he sat watching the procession in Marinette’s arms.

“How much do I owe you for all this stuff?” Belatedly, Marinette realized that having Chat Noir shop for her had maybe not been a good idea considering the differences in their financial means.

“Nothing.” Chat shrugged, caught up in wiggling a finger for Djinn to bat at.

“Chat Noir, I can’t let you just pay for all this stuff for _my_ cat. Tell me what I owe you,” Marinette insisted.

“ _Your_ cat?” Chat scoffed, gingerly taking Djinn from his mother and holding him close to his own face. “This is _my_ son, thank you very much. Look at me and then look at this child and _tell_ me that this is not my biological son through some act of God,” he challenged.

Marinette skeptically surveyed both cats. “Djinn has _blue_ eyes.”

Chat rolled his own green set. “You know who else has blue eyes?”

“Who?”

“His _mother_. _You_. You, Marinette, are the reason my children have blue eyes. That is how genetics works,” he explained with a touch of feigned exasperation.

“W-Wait. Children? Plural?” Marinette spluttered.

“Menthe,” Chat elucidated, nuzzling back as Djinn began to rub against Chat’s cheek. “Menthe is our daughter.”

“Oh.” Marinette tried to keep her blush down but was largely unsuccessful. “When did we become co-parents?” she mumbled, brushing back an errant bang that had fallen out of her ponytail.

“This afternoon when you seduced me into becoming the father of your kittens so that you wouldn’t have to be a single mother,” he answered automatically, with no hint of teasing or irony. “Do try to keep up, Princess.”

She was tempted to hit him on the arm, but he was currently holding Djinn, and she didn’t want to put the kitten at risk no matter how much Chat Noir deserved a smack.

“Well…I guess all the other kittens from the litter have two parents, so why not Djinn and Menthe?” Marinette sighed, giving in to Chat’s antics. “You’ll have to bring Menthe with you sometimes when you come visit so that I can see my daughter.”

Chat loved that Marinette was implying that he would be visiting often and that she was okay with that fact.

They headed back up to Marinette’s room once the entirety of the delivery had been completed, and Marinette set about arranging things while Chat rolled on the floor with Djinn and Menthe.

Blanche Neige and Tux, still waiting to be picked up by their respective parents, mewed softly from the pen in their jealousy.

Chat reached out a hand to give the kittens reassuring pats. “Don’t worry, Babies. Your mommies and daddy will be here for you soon.” He looked upside down at Marinette. “Have you heard from Juleka, Rose, Mylène, or Ivan?”

“Yes. They’re out shopping for supplies right now, but then they’ll be over. It shouldn’t be more than half an hour longer.” Marinette opened a small box and blinked in surprise. “Oh. Collars. Oh, I _love_ this,” she chuckled, holding up a pink leather collar covered in white and light pink crystals. It had a curvy M charm along with an ID tag hanging from the front.

Marinette paused. “Menthe Dupain-Cheng,” she read. “Why my name and contact information? How did you get my phone number?” She looked at him searchingly.

Chat shrugged, carefully sitting up so as not to knock Djinn from his perch on Chat’s chest. “I couldn’t very well put my real name and contact info on there, since I’m going to be bringing her over a lot. I wouldn’t want to tempt you with my identity. Your phone number, I’ve had for a while. Don’t freak out, but I think you gave it to me a couple years ago.”

Marinette took a long, slow inhale. “So…we don’t just go to the same school where you happen to see me from time to time…we actually know each other.”

Chat held her gaze but did not reply.

“Okay.” Marinette released the breath she had been holding in a rush. “That’s…okay.”

“…Is it?” Chat wondered. All signs pointed to no.

Marinette pursed her lips, looking down at Menthe’s collar. She sighed, grabbed the black leather collar with the gold bell for Djinn, and made her way over to where Chat sat on the floor with the kittens in his lap. She reached out for Djinn, carefully fitting the collar so that it was tight enough to stay on but loose enough to be comfortable around his neck.

Once she was done with Djinn, Marinette carefully scooped up Menthe to put her collar on. She raised Menthe to her face to give the kitten a long, slow nuzzle.

“…I didn’t call you today about adopting a kitten,” Marinette finally replied. “I would have recognized your voice.”

She hadn’t up until that point, but…

Chat arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said you called everyone you knew?”

She nodded. “So I guess I don’t have your number in my phone.”

Chat knew for a fact that Marinette had Adrien’s number, but, in light of the whole crush situation…maybe it was a little more understandable that Marinette hadn’t called Adrien about cat adoption.

Actually, suddenly, a lot of their interactions made exponentially more sense.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette called tentatively, scooting in closer so that her thigh brushed his knee.

“Princess?” The serious tone in her voice made him nervous.

Hesitantly, she rested her hand on his leg. “I know revealing your identity to someone would be a big deal. I know it’s dangerous, and I know you would never want to put someone at risk, but…listening to you talk last night, it made me think that you don’t get to talk much about how you’re really feeling and what’s going on in your life and what you’re struggling with with anyone on the other side of your mask. You said that even with your friends you had to keep up an image to some extent, and that’s got to be really hard, right?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to keep up that image with me, okay? That’s the kind of friend I want to be to you,” she stressed. “Last night, when I told you about how terrified I am of not being good enough and letting people down, and when you told me about your family and how you wanted to go into theatre…I want us to always be able to be that candid with one another, not just when we’re freaked out because we almost just died. I always want to be that transparent with you,” she whispered, pushing down the voice in her head telling her she was a hypocrite.

“I’d…really like that,” he mumbled, placing his hand on top of hers and leaning in slightly. “I think I could use more honesty and transparency in my life.”

“I want to be that for you, and I want _you_ to be that for _me_ ,” she emphasized, and her serious expression turned wry. “I know my problems are silly and small when compared with what you have to deal with, but—”

“—Princess, never trivialize whatever it is that you’re going through just because you think I’ve got it worse,” Chat cut her off, giving her hand a squeeze. “If something is troubling you, it’s a big deal, okay? so don’t think you can’t confide your problems in me just because your mom has never walked out on you. …Okay?”

Marinette nodded, flipping her palm over to take his hand in hers. “Okay. I’ll…I promise to confide in you.”

“Only when you want,” Chat amended. “I know there are times when I don’t want to talk to anyone about some things, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to share. Just…when you want someone to listen, I’ll be there.”

“And I’ll be there for you…” Marinette took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eye, gave his hand a solid squeeze, and finished, “on _both_ sides of the mask, if that’s something you decide you want.”

Chat Noir gave a start, jostling the kittens slightly. “W-What?”

“Only if that’s something that you want,” Marinette clarified, making her grip on his hand a little tighter. “It’s not going to be easy hanging out with me as Chat Noir all the time, and if I knew who you were on the other side of the mask, maybe I could be a part of that half of your life too. It’s just something to think about. You don’t have to tell me now or next week or next month or this year or next year…or _ever_ , even. You don’t have to tell me, but I want you to know that you _can_ , if that’s what you decide you want.”

Chat blinked, letting a squirming Djinn down. “But…I _can’t_.”

“Why do you think you can’t?” Marinette prompted, guessing that she already knew the answer.

“Ladybug said—”

“—Ladybug does not get to make those kinds of decisions for you,” Marinette informed, setting Menthe down on his lap to free her hand up to reach for Djinn before he could find his way into her sewing basket again. “She is not your boss. She does not control you, and she does not get a say in what you choose to do or not to do. Yes, she has some extremely good reasons for not revealing her own identity that you should respect because that is _her_ decision, between her and her kwami, but Ladybug does not get to dictate how you run your life, Chat Noir, and if you decide that you do want me to know who you are, she’s just going to have to get over it.”

The authority and confidence in Marinette’s voice shook Chat. She sounded so much like Ladybug in that moment that he began to think he really _did_ have a type. He _liked_ the certainty of her tone. He liked that he got the feeling that Marinette would beat Ladybug up for him if his partner gave him any trouble about revealing his identity to Marinette. It was nice to know that someone had his back so entirely. It felt like the trust he had always placed in Ladybug without the bite of rejection that their relationship was tainted with now.

Chat Noir raised their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the inside of Marinette’s wrist. “Thank you, Princess. I’ll think about it.” With a gentle squeeze, he let go. “I should head home.”

“I didn’t scare you off, did I?” Marinette worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, suddenly afraid that she had come on too strong.

He laughed off her concern. “Please. I signed up to co-parent kittens with you. I do not have commitment issues, Princess. I just need to get the little princess home and settled before my pseudo-step-mom finds a bunch of cat supplies in my room and accidentally mentions it to my father before I can debrief her.” He got to his feet and paused, smiling shyly. “I’m actually really happy that you’re this invested in our friendship. Thank you for deciding to care about me.”

“Oh, Minou,” Marinette sighed, pushing herself up to give his hair a tussle. “You are _so_ easy to care about. Easiest decision of my life.”

 

“Detransformation,” Chat muttered as he set down Menthe’s cat carrier on his bed and opened the door for her to come out in her own time.

“Kid,” Plagg growled, glaring as soon as he was out of the ring.

“Plagg,” Adrien sighed, sinking down into the comforter.

“I asked exactly _one_ thing of you,” the kwami griped, hands going to his hips. “Don’t. Make. Me. A. Grandpa.” He punctuated each word with a headbutt to Adrien’s cheek. “Before I’m ready! I’m too young for this! _You’re_ too young for this!” Plagg hissed. “You have two kittens with a girl you didn’t even get to mate with! I try never to give you advice, but let me share my heartfelt opinion on this one: You’re doing this wrong! Mating first, then kittens—and you’re too young to be mating. You’re not allowed to mate until you’re thirty, do you hear me? You are a _kitten_. You have no business making more kittens with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

There was finally silence.

“Are you done?” Adrien sighed, rubbing at his temples. He already had a headache from the bombshells Marinette had dropped on him earlier. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with Plagg.

“Yes. I’ve finished,” Plagg snorted, going over to the cat carrier where Menthe was just beginning to peek her head out. “Hello there, Sweetie,” Plagg cooed, causing Adrien to prop himself up on his elbows and stare in amazement.

“Hello,” Plagg sang. “Come to Grandpa Plagg. Come here, Baby. Come here, Menthe.”

Surprisingly, Menthe trotted right out of the carrier on her slightly unstable kitten legs and rubbed affectionately up against Plagg.

They both began to purr.

“Is this the Twilight Zone?” Adrien wondered. “I thought you were dead set against my having a kitten.”

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Yes, but it’s not Menthe’s fault that you screwed up. How could I blame my sweet granddaughter for her father’s mistakes?”

Adrien opened his mouth to retort but then thought better of it.

“Come here, Cheese Puff. Let Grandpa Plagg groom you. Your dad doesn’t know how to do it properly.” Sure enough, Plagg took Menthe (who was about twice his size), under his paw and began to lick her clean as Adrien watched in astonishment.

He was kind of jealous. That was _his_ kitten. _He_ wanted to clean Menthe…only…the human majority of his brain knew that that was weird. He was not going to lick that kitten. He was _not_.

“Plagg, is there any way to turn down the cat instincts? They’re making me want to do…not normal things,” he completed in a mumble of embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Plagg replied through a mouth full of Menthe fur. “What are you wanting to do?”

“Oh…you know,” Adrien sighed, lowering himself back down onto the bed. “Chase laser pointer dots and pounce on birds and stuff.”

And mate with Marinette and pick Menthe up by the scruff of her neck with his teeth. Cat stuff.

Plagg quickly finished with Menthe, and the little kitten stumbled over to her father, curling up against Adrien’s neck.

Adrien began to purr softly to his daughter, and she purred back. It wasn’t as good or as natural as Chat Noir’s purr, but Adrien could still do it even when he wasn’t transformed.

“She takes after you,” Plagg observed, joining the kitty pile.

“How so? I think she looks more like Marinette,” Adrien mumbled.

“She’s got your personality. You can see that by looking in her eyes,” Plagg explained. “She’s a massive cupcake. The other kittens would have walked all over her.”

“I wouldn’t have let them,” Adrien snorted, the “Protect!” urge going off in his head once more.

They all laid there together in relative silence for a good ten minutes.

Menthe drifted off to sleep, and Adrien was almost there when Plagg finally spoke up.

“Are you going to tell Marinette who you are?”

Adrien gave a start, jolting Menthe awake. “Sorry, Baby,” Adrien cooed, petting her gently in reassurance. “…I can’t,” he whispered back at Plagg.

“Why? Ladybug?” Plagg snorted.

Adrien shook his head. “Marinette _likes_ me. Likes _Adrien_. I can’t… She can’t know that I’m Chat Noir.”

Plagg frowned deeply at this, not following Adrien’s logic. “So are you going to woo her as Adrien then?”

“Wh-What?!” Adrien coughed. “No. No. I can’t.”

“Kid, I don’t get you,” Plagg sighed. “You want her, right? We just established last night that you were interested. Why don’t you want to pursue her now that you know she actually returns your feelings? Do you not want to be happy?”

Adrien chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek as he tried to arrange his thoughts. “So…she’s not interested in Chat Noir romantically. She just wants to be friends. Adrien, she’s been in love with for years but is afraid of doing anything to change the relationship with in case it crashes and burns.”

“Okay. I’m with you so far,” Plagg conceded. “So…?”

“So I can’t do anything as Adrien,” Adrien insisted.

“You lost me,” Plagg groaned.

“Plagg, she thinks I’m perfect,” Adrien gulped, panic rising in his voice.

Plagg nodded, beginning to see the problem. “Oh. You’re scared of letting her see the real Adrien and having that disappoint her…even though she said that she’d gotten to see your flaws as she got to know you better and still loved you regardless…loved you _even more_ as she got to know you better.”

“She said that even my flaws were perfect,” Adrien shrieked as quietly as he could manage. “I’m not doubting her sincerity, but that is _insane_ , Plagg. Obviously, she’s completely delusional. She might think that she knows me, but she doesn’t. She _can’t_. I haven’t _let_ her know me, Plagg. I haven’t let _anyone_ know me, so how can she say that she loves even my flaws when I’ve only ever let her glimpse the socially acceptable ones?”

“Kid, don’t hyperventilate,” Plagg tried to coach, but Adrien didn’t hear him.

“I have barely scratched the surface with her, and she thinks I’ve let her see past the façade?” Adrien laughed liked a wounded, cornered beast. “She doesn’t even realize that she’s only looking at the second or third uppermost layer. There are façades behind my façades behind my façades. I don’t know what she thinks she loves, Plagg, but it isn’t _me_.”

“Kid,” Plagg called, trying to put the brakes on Adrien’s meltdown.

“It isn’t this lonely mess who sneaks out of his suffocating life to masquerade as a superhero and who struggles to relate to people his own age and who can’t make friends because he has no clue how to interact with people through his crippling social anxiety.”

“Adrien.” Plagg nudged Adrien’s shoulder.

“She doesn’t love _me_. _I_ don’t love me,” Adrien gasped.

“Adrien!” Plagg shouted, finally pulling his charge out of it.

“What?” Adrien snapped breathlessly.

Plagg flew up to look Adrien straight in the eye as he instructed gently, “Calm down.”

“I am calm,” Adrien lied, but they both knew that he was lying.

“Pick up the kitten,” Plagg urged. “And calm down.”

Oh so carefully, Adrien scooped Menthe into his hands and brought her up to his face to nuzzle.

“It’s okay, Kid.” Plagg gave up all pretense of his gruff exterior and floated up to nuzzle Adrien’s hair. “Just calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

Once Adrien’s breathing and heartrate had returned to normal and he and Menthe were purring contentedly at one another, Plagg cautiously returned to the subject of Marinette. “So…do you have a plan? What are you going to do about your feelings for Marinette and her feelings for Adrien? What do you _want_ to do?”

“Get her to see the real me and like me anyway?” Adrien whispered. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“She seems to like Chat Noir just fine.” Plagg shrugged. “Maybe if you keep seeing her as Chat Noir and gradually lower your walls around her as Adrien…I don’t know if she’ll love you, but at least then you’ll know that you were honest with her and she made her decision based on the real you and not just her perception of the persona you display.”

Adrien nodded, slowly processing. “Yeah. Let’s…let’s do that. If she gets to know the real me and decides she likes me anyway, fabulous. If she doesn’t…at least we can still be friends. After everything that I’ve shared with her and how she’s reacted so far…I can’t imagine she’d stop being my friend.”

Menthe broke the contemplative silence with a high-pitched mew.

Adrien blinked down at his daughter. “What is it, Baby? What’s wrong?”

“Your child is hungry,” Plagg informed.

Adrien quirked an eyebrow at his kwami. “You understand her?”

Plagg shrugged, floating off to the minifridge for some sustenance of his own. “It’s a little difficult with her baby talk. She doesn’t enunciate very well.”

“But you understand her.” Adrien gawked.

Plagg shrugged again. “Tolerably. Feed your kid, Kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brother actually told me the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle joke (and I laughed for about three minutes). It's funny because the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle states that you can't determine the exact location and the speed at which an object is moving at the same time, so because the police officer told Heisenberg how fast he was going, Heisenberg could not at the same time know where he was and was, thus, lost. (Uh-oh. Is my nerdiness showing?)
> 
> Because it is never going to come up in this story, and I don't want to leave you hanging in case you were curious: What is the circumference of a Jack-o'-lantern? Pumpkin Pi. Circumference equals 2πr (pi and radius, respectively).
> 
> A note on the pronunciation of "Menthe". You know the dessert mont blanc? Menthe is kind of like "mont" if you don't speak French. Basically, just say "mont" pronouncing the n and the t, and that's pretty close to the pronunciation of "menthe". You could also type "menthe" into Google Translate and press the pronunciation button. "Menthe" means "mint", by the way. There's a reason for that involving Emilie and mint tea that Adrien/Chat might get around to mentioning later.
> 
> I think my favourite part is the end with Adrien, Plagg, and Menthe. ^.^ Did you guys have a favourite part? I also really like Marinette and Chat snuggling with kittens.
> 
> See you guys on Monday, 06/24/2019. Take care!


	7. Ice Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's lovely to see you again. Thank you for joining me. At this point in time, I don't know if I'll have responded to all of your comments by the time I post this. I'm prepping the chapter the night before I post, so I'm not sure if I'll have gotten around to replies tomorrow during the day or not. If not, I apologize. I didn't get as much done over the weekend as I had hoped. :/ Regardless, thank you so much for all of your comments, kudos, and bookmarks. Your support has been so marvelous.
> 
> An announcement: I'm going to be taking July off from feeling obligated to update. My mental health has been not so great the past six months, so I'm going to be taking a bit of a time out to try to get myself back in order. Thanks for your patience during this time. I'll see you again in August!

Chapter Seven: Performing the Tango on Thin Ice

“I know nothing about this,” Nathalie decreed, a hint of panic actually evident on her usually stoic face. “Absolutely nothing,” she warned. “When your father finds out, this will be entirely your problem. I will not lie for you. I will not make excuses. I will not intercede. This is expressly against the rules, and I will take no part in this.”

Adrien shrugged. “Okay, but will you come check on her periodically while I’m at school to make sure she’s okay and that she has water?”

“…I will do that,” Nathalie relented, “but if your father finds out, I am throwing you under the bus.”

“I’m okay with that. Just don’t let him throw her out or have her drowned or anything until I get home to talk to him, okay?” Adrien pleaded. “Just don’t let him hurt Menthe. I love her.”

Nathalie’s heart broke a bit at his earnestness. “I…will see what can be done.”

“Just try to impress upon him that that is my _daughter_ and it will hurt me deeply if anything happens to her,” Adrien stressed.

Nathalie sighed, letting her head hang as she patted her charge on the shoulder. “All right, Adrien. I’ll make sure he knows. Don’t worry. Just…focus on school today, okay? I’ll take care of Menthe.”

“Thank you, Nathalie.” His grim expression suddenly flipped into a wide, beaming grin of gratitude. “You are seriously the _best_. I can never thank you enough.”

She gave his shoulder another pat, letting the barest touch of a smile poke through her façade. “You’re welcome, Adrien. Now, is there anything you need me to order for her? Do you have everything you need?”

Adrien shrugged. “I think we’re good for now. Sometime in the near future, I need to place a regular, recurring order for cat food to be delivered discretely here and to the side door of Tom and Sabine’s bakery, but I’m not sure how fast we’ll go through the bags of kibble I bought last night.”

Nathalie’s eyebrow slowly climbed up over the frame of her glasses. “Tom and Sabine’s bakery?”

Adrien rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. “So…you know how I explained that Marinette is Menthe’s mother? Well…Marinette and Chat Noir have a son as well.” Adrien pulled out his phone and showed Nathalie the picture of Marinette and Djinn cuddling. “His name is Djinn. He looks just like me, doesn’t he?”

Nathalie tried not to laugh. Tried. “He has his mother’s eyes, though.”

“So, I was thinking that I could pay for food and litter and stuff as kind of…child support, I guess.” Adrien grinned bashfully.

Nathalie shook her head. “All right. You just let me know when you start to run low on something, and I’ll take care of it.”

“ _Thank you_ , Nathalie,” Adrien reiterated.

“Now that logistics are taken care of, you should really come meet your granddaughter,” Plagg snickered, flying up to tug at Nathalie’s lapel.

“My wh-what?” Nathalie stuttered.

“Granddaughter,” Plagg repeated, guiding Nathalie over to the large dog crate Adrien had set up next to his bed.

Inside was a bed, some toys, a mini litterbox, and a scratching post. A water bottle was attached to the side.

Menthe looked up and mewed as Plagg and Nathalie approached.

“This is quite the nice little setup,” Nathalie hummed appreciatively.

“I thought it would be good since she can move around quite a bit, but she’s still confined to a safe environment,” Adrien explained, bending down to unlock the cage and scoop up the kitten. “Would you like to pet her?” He tentatively held Menthe out toward Nathalie.

Nathalie hesitated before stretching out a finger to gently stroke the top of Menthe’s head.

Menthe began to purr.

“She likes you,” Plagg translated. “She’s kind of like a dog in that way, though. She turns to mush for anyone who will give her affection. I guess she gets that from her father.”

“Hey,” Adrien pouted. “I’m not _that_ easy.”

Nathalie tried not to laugh. She did not succeed.

 

“Mec, I have got so many cat pics to show you,” Nino grabbed Adrien by the arm and announced practically as soon as Adrien was out of the car. “I used to make fun of those dog mom people who put their animals in clothes and pushed them around in strollers, but now I’m totally one of those people. Scheherazade is, like…dude. I didn’t know I could love someone more than I love Alya, but I _love_ this kitten. Mec, I’m a cat dad!”

“We’ll have to start a club,” Adrien snickered, whipping out his phone without thinking. “But, just for the record, my daughter is cuter than your daughter.”

“Adrien, I love you, Man, but I will wipe the floor with you if you say that about my daughter again,” Nino growled, taking Adrien’s mobile to inspect the pictures of Menthe. “Marinette didn’t mention that you were getting one of the kittens. How the heck did you manage to talk your dad into this?”

Adrien froze.

“Aww. Man, she’s cute,” Nino snickered as he swiped through the photos. “What’s her name?”

“Menthe,” Adrien gulped. “Uh, Nino? Marinette doesn’t exactly know that I have this kitten.”

Nino looked up from the phone to cock an eyebrow at his best friend. “Oh? How’s that work? This is one of Marinette’s kittens, right? I remember her from the photos Marinette sent when Alya and I were picking which one we wanted.”

Adrien bit his lip and fished around for an appropriate lie. “Okay, so…I have this friend. Kind of like Chloé from my life before I got to go to school. He’s another rich guy; we’re not that close, but he doesn’t have a lot of friends either, so that’s kind of how we know each other.”

Nino nodded, brow furrowed in confusion but patiently waiting for Adrien to finish his explanation.

“Anyway, it just so happens that my friend is an acquaintance of Marinette’s too, and he got Menthe from her. The only thing is that he has a kind of crazy schedule, so sometimes he’s not at home regularly, and he didn’t want Menthe to be alone during those times, so he asked if I could help. So we’re sharing her.” Adrien smiled sheepishly, thinking that that sounded fairly plausible. His friends saw how hectic Adrien’s own life was. It wouldn’t be unthinkable for another such individual to exist and ask Adrien to share a cat with him.

Nino frowned but seemed to accept Adrien at his word. “And your dad got abducted by aliens, so now he’s magically not a joy-sucking dick and thus okay with you having a pet?”

Adrien wilted slightly, dreading that conversation. “He…doesn’t know yet. I’m hoping he doesn’t find out for a while, but I know it’s only a matter of time. Nathalie knows, and I’m pretty sure that, contrary to what she said, she’ll try to talk him down for me, but…” He took his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed in apprehension.

Nino winced. “Oh, Mec.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed. “This is going to be all kinds of fun. I’m not backing down, though. I’m keeping Menthe, and he’ll have to throw _me_ out to get rid of her.”

“Good on you, Dude,” Nino cheered, clapping Adrien on the back.

They made their way into the school building and were halfway through the gym when Nino finally decided to voice a thought that had been bothering him for the last three years.

Nino lowered his voice and stepped in closer to Adrien to eliminate the chance of them being overheard. “…So…I know this isn’t really the time or place to have this discussion, so you can totally hit the pause button on this, but…I just need to ask you now before I lose my nerve for another couple years.”

“O…kay?” Adrien pulled a face, utterly baffled as to what was going on inside his friend’s head.

“This guy that you’re co-parenting a kitten with,” Nino bit his lip. “is that…like…someone you’re interested in?”

In Adrien’s defence, he would have been able to respond faster if the guy in question had actually existed. As it was, Adrien’s first thought was, _“Interested in…what? Chat Noir? Wait. Interested in me? Am I interested in me? What does that mean? Am I interested in me…what? In what capacity?”_

Nino took Adrien’s confused silence as panic at being outted. He put a hand on Adrien’s back and rushed to assure, “Adrien, that’s okay. It’s okay if you are. I was just asking because I wanted to be supportive. I’ve kind of left it alone all these years because I didn’t want to pry, and I thought you’d tell me eventually, but—I mean, you know I love you, right? You’re my best bud, and I will love and support you no matter what. I just…I wanted you to know for sure that I support you because I know you don’t have a lot of people in your life that love and accept you the way that you are.”

Adrien blinked, knowing it was his turn to say something but completely at a loss as to what that might be. “Thank you, Nino.” He started with the obvious and then decided to be honest. “I really appreciate you saying all that, but…I’m sorry. What are we talking about?”

Nino smiled weakly and gave Adrien’s back a pat. “It’s okay, Mec. We don’t have to do this now, if you’re not ready.”

“No, wait.” Adrien grabbed Nino’s arm as Nino moved to step away. “No. Seriously, Nino. I one hundred percent don’t know what we’re talking about. What are you asking me?”

The genuine look of puzzlement and distress on Adrien’s face made Nino’s cheeks burn.

Nino cleared his throat, lowered his voice, and asked more directly, “I’m asking you if the guy you’re co-parenting Menthe with is the guy you’ve been crazy in love with these past four years. I’m saying that, if you like him and you need some help, I will totally be your wingman. I mean…I’m guessing that setting up a guy with another guy is kind of like setting up a guy with a girl, right? If you need me to, I will totally do that for you.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in shock before he broke out in a fit of giggles. He stumbled, catching on to Nino’s arm to keep himself upright.

Nino’s hands went to Adrien’s waist to steady his friend. “Dude, you okay?” All he could do was stare in concern as Adrien rested his forehead on Nino’s shoulder and shook his head, laughing heartily.

“Oh my gosh,” Adrien gasped as his laughter died down. “Oh my gosh.” He looked up at Nino with a wide grin. “Nino, you are the _best_. I could kiss you, but I’m not gay.”

“You’re not.” Nino’s voice cracked.

Adrien shook his head, releasing his hold on Nino as he regained his balance. “No. Okay. Maybe I objectively find some guys like Luka Couffaine attractive, but I’m pretty sure I’m ninety percent straight.”

Nino breathed a heavy sigh, pulling off his cap to rifle a hand through his hair aggressively. “Okay. Good. I wasn’t imagining the thing with Luka.”

“No,” Adrien confirmed sheepishly. “Luka is definitely a thing, but…you seriously thought I was gay all these years? Just because of Luka or…?”

Nino shook his head. “The person you’re in love with. I’m guessing she’s a girl?”

Adrien nodded. “Make that past tense. This weekend I decided I quit. We’re moving on to bigger and better things.”

“Thank God,” Nino sighed, putting back on his hat. “I was thinking I was going to have to say something soon if you kept letting her drag you through the muck for much longer. Mec, that girl has made you miserable for _years_.”

Adrien shrugged half-heartedly. “She’s also made me feel like I could take on the world,” he whispered, feeling the need to defend his lady. “It’s not her fault I don’t know how to give up. She did tell me no…multiple times.”

Nino winced.

“Gently. She was nice about it. I just…stupidly thought she’d eventually change her mind.” Adrien looked away and shrugged again. “…But she’s not going to,” Adrien continued brusquely, turning back to Nino with a factitious smile. “and I’ve got someone else in mind, but before we move on to that, you were explaining why you thought I was gay for the past four years. Continue?”

“Right, but then you have to tell me all about the new crush. We are going to set you _up_ , Mec,” Nino laughed with an enthusiastic clap of Adrien’s arm. “…So…you never had a girlfriend, and you didn’t even seem interested in girls—well…obviously, you thought Marinette was cute, but—”

“—Did I?” Adrien frowned even as he laughed at the irony.

Nino put his hands up in a wide shrug. “Seemed like it. But besides that, you were never interested in anyone. I knew you had your crush who you were in love with, but you were always so elusive about her. You wouldn’t tell me her name or anything about her, really. It was like it was a secret or something, so…I started thinking that maybe the mystery girl was a mystery boy and you were scared that I’d drop you if I found out. I thought you were worried your old man would…I don’t know…kick you out of the house or lock you up inside the house or… I just assumed that that was why you wouldn’t talk about your crush.”

Adrien nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I wish you hadn’t waited years to talk to me about it, though.”

Nino grimaced. “Yeah. I just…I meant to any number of times, but…I just kept losing my nerve and waiting for you to tell me when you were ready, but… Sorry I chickened out.”

Adrien shook his head and waved away Nino’s concern. “It’s not a big deal to me. You’re the one who’s been worrying that his best friend is gay for forever.”

“Yeah,” Nino sighed, resuming their trek to the locker room. “So…new crush?”

“Marinette,” Adrien chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Dude!” Nino exclaimed, punching Adrien in the arm. “ _Dude_! Yes. So much yes. Give me ten minutes to talk to Alya, and you and Marinette will be dating by the end of first period. I swear I will make magic for you.”

Adrien grabbed Nino by the arm before his friend could get too far ahead of himself. “Hold on. Nino, no. You can’t tell anyone. Please?”

Nino’s elation quickly drained into a pout of frustration. “Mec, she definitely thinks you’re cute. I know she’d agree to go on a date with you if you asked. Why would you want to wait?”

Adrien shrugged, smiling timidly. “I’m not ready?”

Nino bit his lip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Four years is a long time to be in love with someone, and I just Saturday night decided to give up on that. I _just_ decided that Marinette was cute this weekend. The four of us have been friends for a couple years now, and you guys are seriously some of the best things that have ever happened to me. I don’t want to jump the gun and ask Marinette out before I’m actually ready to give the relationship a fair chance. I don’t want to drag my baggage from the other girl into a relationship with Marinette, and I’m scared I’ll mess everything up, and then the four of us won’t be able to be friends like we were. I’m also a little concerned that maybe, even if Marinette is kind of interested in me, she might not be interested in the _real_ me. I mean…you know how I’m a hot mess?”

Reluctantly, Nino nodded.

“This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg,” Adrien snorted. “Not even you, Nino, have seen the bottom of this abyss. She may think I’m pretty and smart and thoughtful and patient and charming, but she has no conception of the person I am behind this mask. …So I kind of just want more time to get over the other girl and maybe…I don’t know. Open up to Marinette a little more? Give her the opportunity to see a little more of what I’m actually like before she signs up to date me, thinking she’s getting Prince Charming when I’m just Mister Hyde.”

Nino rolled his eyes, reaching out to rest a hand on Adrien’s upper arm. “Okay. Some of the stuff you said makes a lot of sense. You should definitely get your feelings for the other girl figured out before you start dating anyone else—Marinette or otherwise. But I think you’re selling yourself short. Adrien, you _are_ kind and smart and compassionate and funny. You _are_ charming. You _are_ sweet. That’s not all fake. Sure, you may play it up from time to time in public, but I know you, and I know that you are that person in private too. Marinette doesn’t just like some fictional persona you’ve conjured up. She likes the pieces of the real you that you’ve let her see. You’re a great guy, Adrien, so don’t talk bad about yourself like that.”

A faint smile uncurled on Adrien’s lips. “Thank you, Nino. Part of me knows that you’re right, but…another part knows that you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, Dude. Don’t go all broody on me,” Nino sighed, rolling his eyes. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You really have no idea,” Adrien snickered darkly, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I have a lot of secrets.”

Nino snorted in disbelief, playfully elbowing his friend. “Sure, Mec. You might think you have a good poker face, but you’re almost as bad at lying as Marinette.”

Something inside of Adrien snapped, and in his desperation for his friend to understand the gravity of Adrien’s situation, he found himself whispering, “I’ll prove how good a liar I am. You want to know a secret, Nino? I have an older brother.”

Nino came to a stop, blinking furiously, trying to determine if _this_ was the lie.

“I _had_ an older brother. He left when I was eight, and my parents wiped him out of existence. If my father found out I had told you, he would yank me out of school in a heartbeat and never let me come back. That’s how big a secret it is. I can’t even _talk_ about my brother,” Adrien hissed. He tilted his chin up, arching his neck to show Nino a small, faded scar on the underside of his jaw hidden in the shadow right along the bone. “See that? That’s from my mother’s ring when she smacked me for asking to go to my brother’s wedding. I’m not allowed to mention my brother.”

Adrien looked his friend in the eye, and a part of him felt vindicated at the horror he found there. The rest of him just felt guilty.

“I have secrets, Nino,” Adrien whispered, his voice softening into a melancholy tone. “What else do you think I could be lying about? Just trust me on this one: I’m a black hole that no one deserves to be thrown into unawares.”

He turned to go, but Nino caught his arm.

Adrien didn’t turn to face him.

“Adrien,” Nino sighed, picking his words carefully. “Just because you have some stuff in your past that’s kind of intense, that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. It doesn’t diminish all the great things about you. Maybe it won’t be Marinette, but someday you’re going to meet someone who can see the bad and the good and decide that they want you not in spite of but _because of_ who you are.”

Adrien chuckled softly, turning and throwing an arm around Nino’s shoulders. “You’re going to be a good counselor.”

“You think? I don’t sound too idealistic or speech-y?” Nino chewed anxiously on his lip.

“Maybe a little bit,” Adrien admitted. “I mean, there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever find anybody like that. That sounds a little fairytale-ish, honestly. I don’t think you can tell actual clients that in the future because it might give them false hope, and that might not be good, but I liked it. I could use a little false hope every once in a while to help convince myself that I’m not going to die alone.”

“Adrien, at the very least, you will always have me,” Nino promised.

“Thanks,” Adrien whispered. He let his head drop to rest against Nino’s and was infinitely grateful that his friend never flinched or shied away from Adrien’s need for what was perhaps inappropriate and too-intimate physical affection.

“I’m really glad that my struggles with mental health could inspire you to change career paths. You’re an awesome DJ, Nino, but…I think you’re really going to help some people.”

“God, I hope so,” Nino sighed, giving Adrien a squeeze. “…You’re sure your dad wouldn’t let you see a therapist? I know I’ve asked you a million times, but… You deserve some help, and it’s really screwed up that he won’t let you get it. I mean, even people without issues with depression and anxiety benefit from talking through their problems with someone. It’s not a big deal, and…I hate your father, Mec. I hate how he doesn’t take care of you.”

Adrien made a vague, meaningless noise in response. “I appreciate you, but can we talk about kittens now?”

“Sure, Dude. We can definitely talk about kittens.” Nino pulled away slightly, still keeping an arm around Adrien but loosening the hold so that it was more companionable. “I have got so many shots of Scheherazade to show you. Last night, she—”

“—Hey, Lovebirds!”

Nino and Adrien turned around in time to see Alya barreling at them.

She tackled Adrien, wrapping her arms around him like an octopus from behind and giving him a boa constrictor squeeze. “You cheating on me, Sunshine?” she chuckled, one hand coming to rest on his breast bone while the other settled almost inappropriately low on his stomach.

“I would never,” Adrien pretended to scoff through his own bout of laughter.

“Good,” Alya huffed. “Babe,” she called to Nino. “I’m sorry. I love you, but _this_ ” She pressed her lips to Adrien’s neck and pulled back with a theatric Mwah! “is mine.”

“Sorry, Al, but _I_ saw him first,” Nino snorted, reaching around Adrien to rest his hands on Alya’s hips. He pulled his girlfriend in close, effectively sandwiching Adrien between them as he placed a sweet good morning peck on Alya’s lips over Adrien’s shoulder.

To any onlooker, they screamed “threesome”, but to them, this kind of playful routine was normal.

It had started two and a half years prior when Nino started to realize just how touch-starved his best friend was. Nino began with simple gestures like making a point to put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder or forearm from time to time. He tussled Adrien’s hair. He added more fist bumps and claps on the back and side hugs.

As soon as Adrien determined that it was allowed, he began to reciprocate, often sitting too close when they were watching a movie or playing video games, throwing an arm around Nino’s shoulders, or occasionally hanging off of Nino in public.

It was after witnessing this overly clingy behavior several times that, one year ago, Alya had finally said something out of concern that she was losing her boyfriend. Once Nino explained the situation, however, Alya gladly joined in the effort to show Adrien the affection he had been deprived of at home.

Admittedly, it had gone a little far, but…Nino and Alya were both secure in their relationship with one another, and Adrien had been told in no uncertain terms that his friends were just playing around and if they did anything that made him uncomfortable, he was to tell them that very instant. They had guidelines in place, and, so far, things seemed to be working.

The only one who felt even remotely uncomfortable with their arrangement was Marinette.

The three slowly pulled apart and made their way into the locker room chuckling.

“So, how’s the baby girl?” Nino prompted, lacing his fingers through Alya’s.

“She’s a perfect little she-devil,” Alya snickered. “I _love_ her. She’s her mommy’s daughter all right.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “I knew that. I meant, ‘How is she settling in at your house?’ Are the twins behaving around her?”

“She’s fine.” Alya waved dismissively. “The twins are fine. Nora’s absolutely in love, and Dad is a proud grandpa.”

“You guys have to show me pictures,” Adrien whined, reinserting himself into the conversation.

Alya and Nino both pulled out their phones.

“Hey, show Alya your kid too,” Nino encouraged five minutes later. “Adrien’s co-parenting one of Marinette’s kittens too. The little grey one.”

“What?” Alya cocked her head to the side. “Marinette didn’t mention it.”

“She doesn’t exactly know yet.” Adrien grimaced and repeated the lie about co-parenting Menthe with his friend.

Alya’s next question concerned Gabriel being replaced by body snatchers, and Adrien had to explain that his father didn’t know about the kitten yet.

Alya was just about to start strategizing about how to convince Gabriel to keep Menthe when Marinette walked in, looking even more frazzled than usual.

“Hey, Cupcakes!” Nino called out.

Alya turned with a wide grin. “Hey, Girl!”

Adrien began to panic.

He couldn’t speak. He just barely managed to raise a tentative hand in greeting paired with an awkward, terrified smile.

She thought he was perfect. She liked him. She _really_ , really liked him, but not the real him, and she was going to be utterly disillusioned. She thought he was _perfect_ for crying out loud, and what was he supposed to do with that?! He wasn’t perfect! She was setting him up to fail, and there was nothing he could do _but_ fail and let her down. And she’d look disappointed, just like his father.

That thought was terrifying.

His lungs were closing up. He couldn’t breathe.

“Hi, Nino. Hi, Alya.” She was looking at him and smiling and wearing that jacket that Chat had bought for her, and gosh she was cute. “Hi, Adrien.” Her voice was soft and inviting, affectionate, warm.

Even her eyes were smiling at him as she tucked a bang back behind her ear. Those blue, blue eyes bore into him.

He was going to pass out.

It was like playing the piano with his father in the room critiquing, cataloguing every mistake, making notes of all the ways Adrien wasn’t good enough.

_“I am not perfect, Marinette.”_

And he was about to open his mouth, say something stupid, and prove it to her.

If he didn’t actually pass out first. His vision was growing spotty.

“Kid,” Plagg hissed from Adrien’s shirt collar in a voice so small only Adrien’s enhanced hearing could pick it up. “Breathe. Calm down. God, your nervous system’s going haywire. Breathe. Name one thing you can see.”

_“Lip gloss.”_

“One thing you can feel,” Plagg instructed.

 _“The lucky charm in my pocket.”_ He took a deep breath and ran his fingers over the beads.

“One thing you can hear.”

_“Alix laughing at Kim.”_

“One thing you can smell.”

 _“Strawberries and oatmeal and bakery and kitten._ My _kitten._ Our _kitten.”_

“One thing you can taste.”

_“Freaking Camembert in my shirt pocket, the scent is so strong.”_

“Now breathe,” Plagg whispered. “Good. Just breathe and say, ‘Good Morning’.”

“G-Good Morning, M-Marinette,” Adrien stuttered through a winning smile.

“Good enough,” Plagg groaned, shaking his head.

Marinette frowned in concern. “Good Morning, Adrien. Is everything all right?”

“Y-Yes.” He cleared his throat and then really tried to sell his smile as he tried again. “Great. Things are great.”

“Sorry,” Nino broke in. “I really need to talk to Alya for a sec. We’ll see you two in class.”

Adrien whipped around to give Nino a look of horror and betrayal. “Don’t leave me,” he mouthed.

Nino grinned, giving Adrien a thumbs up with one hand as he dragged a confused but compliant Alya away with the other.

“That was weird,” Marinette hummed thoughtfully as their friends disappeared.

“Y-Yeah,” he mumbled ruefully.

“Adrien, seriously. Is everything okay?” Marinette gently turned him around to study his face.

Which helpfully went bright red.

“Are you feeling well?” She touched his forehead.

His temperature put a hole in the roof.

“You’re hot.”

“Just…” He pulled back. “Sorry. I’m fine. I’ve just been working too hard, I guess.” Suddenly a thought hit him. He’d seen her over the weekend as Chat Noir, but he hadn’t spoken to her as Adrien since Friday, and something important and publicly known had occurred since then that Adrien should mention.

“I’ve been worried about you. Are you okay, Marinette?”

Now it was her turn to blush and blink. “W-What? Yeah. I’m fine. Why were you worried?”

“Uh…Saturday night?” He smiled sheepishly beginning to fall back into his normal behavior patterns with her. He was getting a handle on the character he was supposed to be playing. “You saved Chat Noir from that bank robber.”

“Oh!” Marinette laughed, fiddling with her hair in embarrassment. “Wow. Gosh. Sorry. So much has happened since then, I’d almost forgotten. Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call or text you sooner.” Really, he was. He must look like such a bad friend. “I was going to as soon as I heard about it on the news, but I figured you might be tired or traumatized or something and might not want to talk about it. Then, yesterday, I was thinking about calling you, but I figured that everyone else was calling you, and I didn’t want to bother you because you were probably still tired and trying to recover before you had to come back to school, and I figured that Alya would have called me if you weren’t okay, so I thought you were most likely okay, but I wanted to ask you today just to make sure, but now it’s dawning on me that I should have called you sooner and it was really stupid not to call you because you were probably expecting me to call and make sure you were okay. You probably thought I didn’t care about you. God, I’m such an idiot. I _do_ care about you. I care about you a lot, and I—”

Thankfully, Plagg pinched Adrien, bringing his blathering to an abrupt stop.

“Sorry.” Adrien winced. “You’re right. I don’t feel well, but I’m really glad you’re okay, and your hair looks super cute up in a ponytail like that. Excuse me.”

Before she could get a word in edgewise, Adrien bolted, heading straight for the nurse’s office.

The nurse took one look at his flushed face and sent him to lie down. His temperature wasn’t elevated enough to be considered a fever, but his racing heart earned him the right to take a nap through first period.

“We’ll see if your condition improves after a little rest,” the nurse informed gently. “You work too hard, Adrien.”

Adrien, who had not slept well either of the preceding nights, easily drifted off. When he woke screaming in a panic, utterly disoriented, and unable to get his breathing under control, the nurse called Nathalie to take him home.

“Is this new, or has he been treated for anxiety before?”

Nathalie pursed her lips, taking in Adrien: ashen-faced and miserable.

“Monsieur Gabriel Agreste is of the opinion that his son’s health is a private matter and, therefore, none of your concern,” Nathalie repeated the official line as she placed a hand on Adrien’s back and guided him out.

Adrien closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the window of the front passenger’s side door. He radiated dread.

“We don’t have to mention anxiety. I’ll tell him…it’s stomach flu. You were throwing up. He won’t ask too many questions,” Nathalie assured, tentatively taking one hand off the wheel to rest lightly on Adrien’s arm.

“Okay,” Adrien whispered. “Thanks.”

Nathalie retracted her hand and bit her lip, hesitating before inquiring, “Are you okay, Adrien? Was it what happened Saturday night, or…?”

Adrien sighed, keeping his eyes closed. “The second one, the one I got sent home for, was about Saturday. The first one that made me go to the nurse’s office in the first place was about Marinette.”

“Marinette?” Nathalie echoed in confusion.

Thankfully, Plagg took it upon himself to explain the situation between Adrien and Marinette.

Nathalie sat silently for a moment when Plagg had finished. “Adrien,” she sighed. “I doubt that Miss Dupain-Cheng is under the impression that you are literally perfect. She was merely gushing because of her affections for you. It is unlikely that she will be disappointed by you. No one could be disappointed by _you_ , Adrien.”

“Father is. Constantly,” Adrien muttered softly, matter-of-factly.

Nathalie and Plagg winced in tandem.

“Nonsense,” Nathalie scoffed, but her voice came out too high and ended up sounding nervous. “Your father may have high expectations and always want you to strive for excellence, but he is very proud of you, Adrien. You are a fine young man, an accomplished young man, and a decent young man besides.”

“Nathalie, that’s what _you_ think of me, not what Father thinks. While I really, sincerely appreciate it…” Adrien sat up and looked right at Nathalie. “The way Father looks at me…that’s not pride. That’s not love. That’s not acceptance. That’s not the way my friends’ parents look at them. I didn’t know better until I started going to school, but that’s not the way Nino’s mom and dad look at him. I’m willing to bet Marinette’s parents have never looked at her the way Father looks at me. The way Father looks at me…that’s disappointment…and I never want Marinette to look at me that way.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Nathalie sighed, reaching out once more to give his shoulder a reassuring pat.

There was nothing else she could say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Nino, and I'm always so pleased when I get to write him and Adrien. I've decided to go a bit of a different direction with the Nino, Alya, and Adrien dynamic for this. It's really an experiment, so I don't know how much I'll do with it, but I have this one scene I'd like to do, but...we'll see. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I'll see you all in August!

**Author's Note:**

> Huzzah! And that's Chapter One. What did you think? Was there a line you particularly liked? Was the narrative easy to follow? I feel like it was a little choppy in places, but I'm generally pleased with it. What was your favourite part?
> 
> I really liked the part at the very beginning where Marinette walks past the church at sunset. I was on my way to a museum when I walked past that church and heard the choir singing, and it was really beautiful. The red doors of the church still stand out in my mind. It's just a little detail in the story, but I have a really fond memory connected to it, so I put it in. Maybe you enjoyed it; maybe you didn't even notice. Either way is fine.
> 
> For most of these prompts, I'll probably doing something like this where it works if you squint. For instance, Chapter Two is supposed to be "Greek AU". I'm doing "Greek Food", so it kind of fits...right? ^.^; Anyway, it should be fun
> 
> The “There may be more than one way to skin a cat…if you’ll pardon the expression.” quotation in this chapter comes from American McGee's Alice, by the way. Uh...it's a little dark and might not be for everyone.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I'll see you on Tuesday!


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